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But hold!—methinks some carping cynic here Will greet my homely image with a sneer. Well—let us see—I would the monster view: Man with umbrageous whiskers, is it you? Ah, no—I was mistaken: every brow Beams with benevolence and kindness now; Beauty and fashion all the circles grace— And scowling Envy here were out of place! On every side the wise and good appear— The very pillars of the State are here! There sit the doctors of the legal clan; There all the city's rulers, to a man; Critics and editors, and learned M.D.'s, Buzzing and busy, like a hive of bees; And there, as if to keep us all in order, Our worthy friends the Mayor and the Recorder!

Well, peace be with you! Friends of native worth, Yours is the power to call it into birth; Yours is the genial influence that smiles upon The budding flowerets opening to the sun. they all around us court your fostering hand— Rear them with care, in beauty they'll expand— With grateful odors well repay your toil, Equal to those sprung from a foreign soil; and more Placides bask in your sunshine then, The first of actors and the best of men.



The Maid of Saxony; or, Who's the Traitor? An Opera in Three Acts.

Founded upon historical events in the life of Frederick the Second of Prussia, related by Miss Edgeworth, Zimmermann, Latrobe, and other writers.

The Music With the exception of three German Melodies, and the characteristic Introduction Composed by Charles E. Horn.

The Libretto by George P. Morris.



The Scenery by..........Messrs. Hillyard, Wheatley, and Assistants. The Costumes by...........................................M. Louis. The Properties and Decorations by.......................M. Dejonge. The Machinery by........................................M. Speyers. The Orchestra increased, and the Choruses full and effective. Leader of the Orchestra and Chorus-Master.................M. Chubb. The Music produced under the direction of...........Mr. C. E. Horn. Stage Manager............................................Mr. Barry.



Dramatis Personae.



Frederick II. (King of Prussia)....................Mr. Chippendale. Count Laniska (his Aid-de-Camp, a Pole)................Mr. Manvers. Albert ( a young Saxon student-at-law)..............Mr. Fredericks. Karl (a Hungarian, Packer to the Royal Factory).....Mr. C. E. Horn. Wedgewood (an English Merchant)........................Mr. Placide. Baron Altenburg (Attorney-General).......................Mr. Barry. Judge of the Court.......................................Mr. Clark. Hans (an Innkeeper)....................................Mr. Andrews. Harold (an old Sergeant of Grenadiers)..................Mr. Seguin. Corporal of Grenadiers (old man)........................Mr. Fisher. Burgomaster..............................................Mr. Povey. Jailor of the Castle Spandau...........................Mr. Bellamy. Herald..................................................Mr. Nelson. First General.............................................Mr. King. Second General..........................................Mr. Gallot.

Staff-Officers, Officers of State, Workmen of the Factory, Citizens, Advocates, Jurymen, Grenadiers, Peasants, Travellers, Servants, etc.

Countess Laniska.......................................Mrs. Barry. Frederica (her daughter)..............................Mrs. Knight. Sophia Mansfield (the Saxon Maid).................Mrs. C. E. Horn. Gertrude.........................................Miss Mary Taylor.

Ladies of the Court, Factory Gils, Peasants, etc.

Scene — Berlin and Potsdam. Time — Latter part of the reign of Frederick the Great.



The Maid of Saxony. [See Notes]

Act I.

Scene I.



Inside of a German Inn, on the road to Berlin. Fire and candles nearly extinguished. Clock in the corner, marking the hour of ten. HANS seated in an arm-chair, asleep. Music. The curtain rises to the opening symphony. HANS yawns in his sleep.

(Enter GERTRUDE.)

GERTRUDE. Ho! Hans!—Why, Hans!—You Hans, I say! Awake!—here'll be the deuce to pay! For coming guests get fire and lights, And help me put the room to rights!

(HANS stretches and yawns)

Hans!—I've no patience with the lout! What, Hans, on earth are you about?

(Shakes HANS, who yawns again)

Did ever room look so forlorn? Hans!—Hark! I hear the postman's horn!

(Sounds of a horn in the distance. HANS stretches, yawns, and rises.)

HANS. What der tuyvel is der matter, Dus you chitter-chatter-clatter?

GERTRUDE (aside). His impudence can not be borne!

HANS. What's dat I hear?

GERTRUDE. The postman's horn!

(Sounds of horn again.)

Whose notes o'er moor and mountain flung—

HANS. Are not so noisy as your tongue!

(Horn sounds as though approaching; whips are heard, and the post-coach is supposed to arrive outside with PASSENGERS. Enter the ATTENDANTS, with portmanteaus, carpet-bags, etc., and PASSENGERS.)

CHORUS. Rejoice! rejoice! we're safe and sound, And shelter for the night have found, Within this snug abode! The dust may rise, the rain may fall— Beneath this roof we'll smile at all The dangers of the road!

SOLO. Then let the cheerful board be spread; To supper first, and then to bed, Till birds their songs begin: Thus, whether sleeping or awake, The weary traveller will take His comfort at his inn.

CHORUS. Rejoice! rejoice! we're safe, etc.

[Exit PASSENGERS and ATTENDANTS

GERTRUDE. Where in the world are all these people going to, Hans?

HANS. To Berlin, to shee der troops. Frederick musters dem to-morrow at der capital. But why don't you attend to der guest?

GERTRUDE. Why don't YOU? You are not fit to keep an inn, Hans.

HANS. I was not prought up to it; mine pishiness was to keep a paint-shop, and shell der colors to der artists.

GERTRUDE. Don't stand here chatting about your fine colors—but look to the guests—

HANS. Yaw, yaw, mein fraulein.

ALBERT (without) Ho! landlord!—Waiters, look to our luggage!

WEDGEWOOD (speaking as he enters.) If it is convenient.

(Enter ALB'T and WEDGEWOOD in cloaks, briskly.)

GERTRUDE. This way, gentlemen, this way.

ALBERT. Two bed-chambers, landlord, as soon as possible.

HANS. Yaw, mynheer.

(Gives directions to ATTENDANT, who exits)

WEDGEWOOD. Landlady, take care of my coat and stick, and here's something for your pains.

GERTRUDE. Yes, sir.

WEDGEWOOD (looking at her.) What a pretty girl.

GERTRUDE. Is that ALL, sir?

WEDGEWOOD (aside to GERTRUDE.) No, that's not all. (Kisses her.) Take this into the bargain, you jade!

GERTRUDE (courtesies.) Thank you, sir. (Aside.) What a nice, queer old gentleman!

HANS (taking her away passionately.) What's dat to you? Give me der tings (takes them.) You do noding but ogle mit der young folks, and flirt mit der old ones!

GERTRUDE. Oh, you jealous brute! [Exit in a huff.

WEDGEWOOD (noticing her.) Nice girl that—ODD, too, that she should have married a man old enough to be her grandfather!

HANS (aside.) Dat queer chap in der brown vig I'm sure is a gay deceiver, or he would not admire mine vife so much. I must have mine eyes about me. [Exit.

WEDGEWOOD (noticing HANS and GERTRUDE.) Odd, very odd, VERY ODD indeed! But, now that we are alone, pray continue the narrative you commenced in the coach—if it is convenient.

ALBERT. Right willingly. Frederick, after his conquest of Saxony, transported by force several manufacturers from Dresden to Berlin, where he established a Porcelain Factory—

WEDGEWOOD. Separated from their friends, home, and country, these unfortunate people are compelled to continue their labors for the profit and glory of their conqueror—I know it—go on—

ALBERT. Among those in bondage is Sophia Mansfield—

WEDGEWOOD. I have heard of her:—a young, beautiful, and singularly-gifted girl—

ALBERT. Several pieces of her design and modelling were shown to the king, when he was at Meissen, in Saxony; and he was so struck with their beauty, that he determined to convey the artist with other prisoners, to his capital—

WEDGEWOOD. Where he issued his royal edict, compelling the girls of the factory to marry Prussian soldiers. Unfeelingly odd!

ALBERT. Sophia has yet escaped this tyranny. The OVERSEER, however, has demanded her hand; but I shall be in time to thwart his purposes.

WEDGEWOOD. But, to effect that, you must also thwart the purposes of Frederick himself, who, I understand, is as stubborn as he is bold.

ALBERT. Count Laniska has won Sophia's affections, and love is a power that can not be controlled.

WEDGEWOOD. Veritably odd!

ALBERT. You are on your way to the factory—have you free admission for yourself and friends?

WEDGEWOOD. Indubitably.

ALBERT. Then we will, with your permission, visit it together. (Aside.) In this disguise, and under the name of Worrendorf, I may pass unnoticed.

(Re-enter HANS, with trunks, etc, and GERTRUDE.)

WEDGEWOOD. It is growing late. After the fatigues of the journey, I need repose.

ALBERT. And so do I. Good-night!

WEDGEWOOD. Good-night! [Exit ALBERT; GERTRUDE takes a lighted candle from the table and shows the way; WEDGEWOOD takes a light.] Do you rise early, friend?

HANS. No, mynheer; but mine vife does—

WEDGEWOOD. Then tell your wife to knock at my door early in the morning.

HANS (eyeing him and looking suspiciously.) So ho! I SMOKE you!

WEDGEWOOD. Then keep farther off with your confounded pipe, you Dutch abomination.

HANS (lays his finger on his nose.) And I schmells a rat!

WEDGEWOOD (looking around.) The devil you do! Where?—

HANS. Se I vill knock at yourn door myself—

WEDGEWOOD. If it is convenient. (Exit Hans.) A pretty house I have got into!—Smokes me!—smells a rat!—The FILTHY Dutchman! [Exit.



Scene II.



An open cut wood near Berlin. Tents in the distance. A military outpost. Enter HAROLD, CORPORAL, and a party of SOLDIERS, in military undress.

SONG. The life for me is a soldier's life! With that what glories come! The notes of the spirit-stirring fife, The roll of the battle-drum; The brilliant array, the bearing high, The plumed warriors' tramp; The streaming banners that flout the sky, The gleaming pomp of the camp.

CHORUS. A soldier's life is the life for me! With that what glories come! The notes of the spirit-stirring fife, The roll of the battle-drum!

HAROLD. So, corporal, at last we are to have a muster of the combined forces of the kingdom.

CORPORAL. Yes, the king is never so happy as when he has all his children, as he calls US, about him.

HAROLD. And plaguy good he takes of his CHILDREN! He looks after our domestic as well as our public interests! It was a strange whim in old Fritz to offer each of his soldiers one of the factory girls for a wife!

CORPORAL. I wonder the old hero does not marry some of them himself.

HAROLD. He would rather look after his soldiers than meddle with the fancies of the women—and at his age too!

CORPORAL. Nonsense! The king is a boy—a mere boy—of seventy! But he does meddle with the women sometimes.

HAROLD. Say you so?

CORPORAL. Ay, and old ones too. It was but the other day that he pensioned a poor widow, whose only son fell in a skirmish at his side. Heaven bless his old cocked hat!

HAROLD. Yes is it not singular that one so mindful of the rights of old women should compel the young ones to toil as they do in the factory?

CORPORAL. Tush, tush, man!—that's none of your concern, nor mine. What have we to do with state affairs?

HAROLD. Right, corporal; and it's not worth while for us to trouble our heads about other people's business.

CORPORAL. You're a sensible fellow—

HAROLD. Right again; and I would return the compliment if you did not wear such a flashy watch-riband (looks at it.)

CORPORAL. That's personal!

HAROLD. I mean it to be so. What the devil do you wear it for?

CORPORAL. To gratify a whim. I like this riband. It was a present from an old sweetheart of mine. Look what a jaunty air it gives one!—and where's the harm of keeping up appearances?—

HAROLD. What silly vanity! But let me give you a piece of advice: beware of the scrutiny of the king—he has an eye like a hawk, old as he is; and if he should happen to spy your watch-riband—

CORPORAL. Pooh, pooh!—he would not notice such a trifle.—But who comes yonder? That Hungarian Karl. Let's make way for him.—He's a fellow I don't fancy. What a man to woo and win Sophia Mansfield!

HAROLD. He'll never win her, woo her as he may. Count Laniska will look to that.

[HAROLD, CORPORAL and party retire into tents.

(Enter KARL, in great agitation.)

SONG—KARL. Confusion!—Again rejected By the maid I fondly love! Illusion!—In soul dejected! Jealous fears my bosom move. Dear Sophia!—Hope's deceiver! Whom I love; but love in vain! Can I to my rival leave her? No—the thought distracts my brain!

Love—revenge!—Oh, how I falter! Passion's throes unman me quite: Now he leads her to he alter— How I tremble at the sight! Hold, tormentors! cease to tear me! All in vain I gasp for breath! Hated rival—scorn I bear thee Which can only end in death!

(HAROLD advances.)

HAROLD. Karl, what ails you?

KARL (aside.) Observed! (To HAROLD.) An infirmity I've had from my youth upward. I shall be better presently.

HAROLD. You tremble like one with the ague.

KARL. We Hungarians have not your tough constitution, comrade: besides, the weather is chilly—it freezes me to the bone.

HAROLD. It's the weather within, Karl. Repair to the factory, and sun yourself in the bright eyes of Sophia Mansfield! That will warm you, especially if Count Laniska happens to be by to stir up the fire of your jealousy—eh?

KARL. You have a sharp wit, which I lack, comrade.

HAROLD (sarcastically.) And I've another thing which you lack—COMRADE.

KARL. What may that be?

HAROLD. A clear conscience, my old boy!

[Exit HAROLD into tent

KARL. Does he suspect? No—sleeping and waking I have concealed this (his arm) damning evidence of my guilt. The mark of Cain I bear about me is known to none, and the secret dies with me.—For that young Pole, Sophia scorns me; but let him beware!—My revenge, though slow, is sure!

(KARL turns to go; but perceiving Count Laniska advancing, he retires to a tent. Enter LANISKA, who notices KARL in the distance.)

SONG—LANISKA. When I behold that lowering brow, Which indicates the mind within, I marvel much that woman's vow A man like that could ever win! Yet it is said, in rustic bower, (The fable I have often heard) A serpent has mysterious power To captivate a timid bird.

This precept then I sadly trace— That love's a fluttering thing of air; And yonder lurks the viper base, Who would my gentle bird ensnare! 'Twas in the shades of Eden's bower This fascination had its birth, And even there possessed the power To lure the paragon of earth!

(At the conclusion of the song, KARL, is about to retire. LANISKA addresses him.)

COUNT. Come hither, Karl.

KARL. I await upon your leisure, count.

COUNT. I would have some words with you.

KARL. You may not relish the frankness of my manner.

COUNT. Indeed!

KARL. Look you, Count Laniska; I am a plain, blunt, straight-forward, rough-spoken fellow, and a soldier like yourself. I know my rights; and, knowing, will maintain them. It was by the king's permission and authority that I chose Sophia Mansfield for my bride—

COUNT. She has rejected you.

KARL. What has that to do with the matter? Women are often perverse, and not always the best judges of their own welfare; and you know she MUST be mine—

COUNT. Must?—

KARL. Yes, MUST. I have the king's promise, and Frederick was never known to break his word.

COUNT. You surely will not marry her against her will?

KARL. Why not? Sophia is the only woman I ever loved: and now that I have her sure, think you I will resign her?

COUNT. And think you the king will force an angel into the arms of a monster? He can not be so great a tyrant—

KARL. Tyrant!

COUNT. Yes. Man was created to cherish woman, not to oppress her; and he is the worst of tyrants who would injure that sex whom heave ordains it his duty to protect.

KARL. Apply you this to the king?

COUNT. To the king, or to any HE in Christendom, who would use his power to oppress the unfortunate! But come, sir, we will not dispute about a hasty word—we have higher duties to perform.

KARL. True, count; we oppose our weapons to the enemies of our country, not the bosoms of our friends. I say OUR country; for, although you were born in Poland, and I in Hungary, Frederick has made Prussia almost as dear to us as our native land, TYRANT though he may be.—But we will not quarrel about a single captive, when the king has placed so many at the disposal of those who fight his battles. [Trumpet sounds without.

(Enter HAROLD with dispatches.)

HAROLD (to COUNT.) Dispatches from the king. (Aside.) And a letter from Sophia Mansfield. [Exit.

(The COUNT receives and examines the dispatches; kisses SOPHIA's letter, and puts it into his bosom. KARL does not notice it.)

DUET—COUNT AND KARL. 'Tis a soldier's rigid duty Orders strictly to obey; Let not, then the smile of beauty Lure us from the camp away. In our country's cause united, Gallantly we'll take the field; But, the victory won, delighted Singly to the fair we yield!

Soldiers who have ne'er retreated, Beauty's tear will sure beguile; Hearts that armies ne'er defeated, Love can conquer with a smile. Who would strive to live in story, Did not woman's hand prepare Amaranthine wreaths of glory Which the valiant proudly wear?

[Exit the COUNT. KARL follows, menacing him.



Scene III.

An apartment in the Chateau of the COUNTESS. Enter the COUNTESS and FREDERICA.



COUNTESS. Your morning ride, Frederica, was full of romance—the hose of your groom, you say, took fright—

FREDERICA. Yes, dear mother, and darted off at a racing pace; my own also became unmanageable, and I lost my presence of mind. I should have been thrown, if not killed, had not a gentleman rushed to my assistance.

COUNTESS. Who was he?

FREDERICA. I do not know.

COUNTESS. Was he alone?

FREDERICA. There was an elderly person with him, who seemed to be a foreigner.

COUNTESS. But HE was young, of course?

FREDERICA. Yes, mother, and handsome as an Adonis.

COUNTESS. You have not fallen in love with this stranger, surely? You are not old enough, and this is only your first season, Frederica.

FREDERICA. Love has all seasons for his own, dear mother. Listen!

SONG—FREDERICA. [This song was not written for the opera; but was introduced by the composer] The spring-time of love is both happy and gay, For Joy sprinkles blossoms and balm in our way; the sky, earth, and ocean, in beauty repose, And all the bright future is couleur de rose!

The summer of love is the bloom of the heart, When hill, grove, and valley their music impart; And the pure glow of heaven is seen in fond eyes, As lakes show the rainbow that's hung in the skies!

The autumn of love is the season of cheer— Life's mild Indian summer, the smile of the year— Which comes when the golden-ripe harvest is stored, And yields its own blessing, repose, and reward.

The winter of love is the beam that we win, While the storm howls without, from the sunshine within. Love's reign is eternal—the heart is his throne, And he has all season of life for his own.

COUNTESS. Silly, thoughtless girl!—What strangers are these coming up the avenue?

FREDERICA (looking out.) As I live, the elderly person I told you of, and the young gentleman who risked his life to save mine!

(Enter WEDGEWOOD and ALBERT.)

WEDGEWOOD. Have I the honor of addressing the Countess Laniska? (Aside.) Flounces, frills, filagrees, and furbelows, but she's superlatively odd!

COUNTESS. I am the countess, sir.

WEDGEWOOD (presenting letters.) Will your ladyship be pleased to receive these letters of introduction—if quite convenient?

COUNTESS (receiving letters and looking at them.) Mr. Wedgewood, from Esturia and London; and—

WEDGEWOOD (introducing ALBERT.) Mr. Albert Worrendorf.

COUNTESS (introducing FREDERICA.) My daughter Frederica.

ALBERT (aside.) The angel we met by accident this morning!

WEDGEWOOD (aside.) Seraphically odd!

FREDERICA (to ALBERT.) We have seen each other before, Mr. Worrendorf.

ALBERT. To my great happiness, madam.

(ALBERT and FREDERICA converse apart.)

COUNTESS (to WEDGEWOOD.) It was very kind in my correspondent, Mr. Wedgewood, to introduce a gentleman of your celebrity to my chateau.

WEDGEWOOD. You do me honor, madam. We Englishmen are plain-spoken people. We are not unlike our earthenware—delf and common clay mixed together. If our outsides are sometimes rough, all within is smooth and polished as the best of work. It is the purest spirit, which, like the finest china, lets the light shine through it. (Aside.) Not a bad compliment to myself, and metaphorically odd!

COUNTESS. Your reply reminds me of the object of your visit. The Prussians are very proud of the manufactory which has claimed the attention of the king.

WEDGEWOOD. Oh, how I long to see the great Frederick!

COUNTESS. You will like him, I am confident.

WEDGEWOOD. I don't know that. I don't at all fancy his edict.—What! marry a parcel of handsome, innocent, industrious girls to his great whiskered horse-guards, whether they will or no? It's a piece of moral turpitude—an insult to common sense—and infamously odd—

FREDERICA (advancing.) Have a care, Mr. Wedgewood—have a care how you talk about the king. He possesses a sort of magical ubiquity—and is here, there, and every where at the same moment.

WEDGEWOOD. How does he manage that?

FREDERICA. He wanders about in secrecy and disguise—enters all kinds of mansions—and often over-hears conversations that were never intended for the court. By this means, it is said, he gathers information from every nook and corner of his kingdom.

WEDGEWOOD. Strange kind of hocus-pocus work for a monarch!—Peripatetically odd!

ALBERT. I have been told that he knows more of the character and condition of his subjects and soldiers than they do themselves.

COUNTESS. And he never knows of a wrong done among his people that he does not instantly redress—though it often puzzles them to learn how he arrives at his knowledge of the facts. Many think him a wizard.

WEDGEWOOD. And not without reason, madam. Never before have I heard of such a compound of sagacity, courage, and eccentricity. Oh, I am all in a glow to see and converse with the jolly old boy!

(Enter Count LANISKA.)

COUNTESS (introducing him.) My son, the Count Laniska, will present you to his majesty.

WEDGEWOOD (bowing to COUNT.) If it is convenient. (Aside.) Most martially and uniformly odd! (To LANISKA.) But, first, I should like to have a glimpse at the factory.

COUNT. I shall be happy to show it to you. There is one extraordinary subject connected with it, that will surprise you both—a young girl of singular talent and beauty—

FREDERICA. Ah, brother! upon your favorite theme again. That young girl occupies more of your thoughts than all he porcelain in these dominions.

ALBERT (aside.) Poor Sophia!

FREDERICA (observing the COUNT looks thoughtful.) Why, what's the matter with you, brother?

WEDGEWOOD. He is no doubt studying the mixture of different kinds of clay, and contriving a furnace that will not destroy it by too much heat. Ingeniously odd!

COUNT. You are mistaken, sir. I was thinking at what time I should have the pleasure of waiting upon you.

WEDGEWOOD. I will be at your service as soon as I have had time to adjust my outward and refresh my inward man.—Necessarily odd! (Seeing the COUNTESS about to retire.) Madam, allow me (takes her hand)—If it is convenient.

[Exit WEDGEWOOD and COUNTESS.

FREDERICA (to COUNT.) Now, brother, that the countess has retired, pray favor us with your confidence. You need not mind Mr. Worrendorf—I have told him all about Sophia Mansfield—I love that poor girl myself, not less for her misfortunes than her genius.

ALBERT. I love her too—

FREDERICA (aside.) Oh, dear! what's the matter with me? My head turns round—I am ready to drop!

COUNT (with emotion.) You love her! Wherefore?

ALBERT. She is my countrywoman, and for that I love her.

FREDERICA (recovering.) Well, gentlemen, I must say this is very gallant of you both, to be praising one lady so highly when there is another in the room. (Aside.) Oh, dear me, how near I came to betraying myself!

ALBERT. Your pardon, my dear madam. When I look at you, I almost forget there is another woman in the world. (Kisses FREDERICA's hand, who turns away with evident confusion.)—But for the present I must leave you, to join Mr. Wedgewood. [Exit.

COUNT (noticing them.) (Aside.) So, so, Frederica—fairly caught, I perceive! (To Frederica.) Ah, sister, sister! as in all things else, there is a destiny in love.

DUET—LANSIKA and FREDERICA. From my fate there's no retreating— Love commands, and I obey; How with joy my heart is beating At the fortunes of to-day! Life is filled with strange romances— Love is blind, the poets say; When he comes unsought, the chance is Of his own accord he'll stay.

Love can ne'er be forced to tarry; Chain him—he'll the bonds remove: Paired, not matched, too many marry— All should wed alone for love. Let him on the bridal-even Trim his lamp with constant ray; And the flame will light to heaven, When the world shall fade away!

[Exeunt



Scene IV.

The whole depth of the stage is made use of in this scene, which represents an open country. A Camp and Soldiers at a distance. Music. Enter HANS, GERTRUDE, and Peasantry: Lads and Lasses dancing.



CHORUS of PEASANTS. Lads and lasses, trip away to the cheerful roundelay! At the sound of tambourine, Care is banished from the scene, And a happy train we bound, To the pipe and tabour's sound. Merrily, merrily trip away, 'Tis a nation's holiday! Merrily, merrily, merrilie, Bound with sprits light and free! Let's be jocund while we may; And dance—dance—dance— And dance the happy hours away!

When the gleaming line shall come, To the sound of trump and drum; Headed by advancing steeds, Whom the king in person leads— Let us hail him in his state, For the king's both good and great! Merrily, merrily trip away, 'Tis a nation's holiday! Merrily, merrily, merrilie, Bound with sprits light and free! Let's be jocund while we may; And dance—dance—dance— And dance the happy hours away!

(Immediately after chorus, a grand march is commenced in he distance, which becomes more and more distinct as the troops advance. The PEASANTS form in groups. HANS speaks during the first part of the march.)

HANS. Here we are, Gertrude, many miles from our own village—and all for vat? To please you—(aside) and to shell a few color to der artishes, vich I pring along mit me for der purpose; but I need not tell her dat.—Here, stand aside, and don't be looking after de sholders!

(GERTRUDE and HANS stand aside. Grand march. Enter a corps of Grenadiers and other troops, who form on the right of the stage. Roll of drums. The troops present arms. Enter FREDERICK, in a furious passion, followed by general and staff Officers, and Count LANISKA. The KING acknowledges the salute, lifts his hat, and puts it on again furiously. HAROLD and Corporal are in the ranks of the Grenadiers. Throughout the scene the KING speaks hurriedly.)

KING. General!

FIRST GENERAL. Your Majesty.

KING. How comes it there is such a lack of discipline in your division? Disband THAT regiment at once, and draft a few of the men from the right wing into other regiments ordered for immediate service! The sooner THEY are shot the better!

FIRST GENERAL. Yes, sire. [Exit.

KING. Generals—most of you have served the greater part of your lives with me. We have grown gray-headed in the service of our country, and we therefore know best ourselves the dangers, difficulties, and glory in which we have shared. While we maintain the discipline of the army, we may defy any power that Europe can march against us—relax that, and we become an easy prey to the spoiler.

SECOND GENERAL. Your majesty shall have no cause of complain in the future.

KING. Make sure of that!—Soldiers, I rely in my operations entirely upon your well-known zeal in my service, and I shall acknowledge it with gratitude as long as I live; but at the same time I require of you that you look upon it as your most sacred duty to show kindness and mercy to all prisoners that the fortunes of war may throw in your power.

SECOND GENERAL. That duty, sire, you have taught us all our lives.

KING (taking snuff.) Good!—Have any of my grenadiers anything to say to me before the parade is dismissed?

HAROLD (recovering arms.) Your Majesty!

KING. Speak out, Harold!

HAROLD. The grenadiers have noticed with deep regret that you fatigue yourself of late too much with the cares of the army. We protest against it—

KING. Zounds and fury!—Here's rebellion! YOU protest against it?

HAROLD (bluntly.) We do. You are getting to be an old man—a very old man—and are too much afoot.

KING. I can do as I like about it, I suppose?

HAROLD. Certainly not; and you will, therefore, in future, be good enough to use your carriage more and your legs less.

KING. What do the grenadiers FEAR?

HAROLD. We fear nothing but the loss of your health, the loss of your life, or the loss of your favor, sire.

KING. Don't you fear the loss of my temper at your bluntness—eh, old comrade?

HAROLD. No, sire; we know you like it.

KING. I do indeed. You are in the right, my brave compatriots—for my advanced age and increasing infirmities admonish me that I shall be under the necessity of following your advice. But on the day of battle, you shall see me on horseback—ON HORSEBACK—and in the thickest of the fight! (Crosses the stage, as a BURGOMASTER enters, kneels, and presents a petition.) What have we here?

BURGOMASTER. Sire—the common council has imprisoned a citizen, upon an accusation that he has sinned against heaven, the king, and the right worshipful the common council. We humbly beg to know what Your Majesty's pleasure is with regard to the punishment of so unparalleled and atrocious an offender?

KING. If the prisoner has sinned against heaven, and is not a fool or a madman, he will make his peace with it without delay. This is a Power (taking off his hat—all the characters make their obeisance) that kings themselves must bow to in reverential awe. (Resumes his hat.)

BURGOMASTER. But he has also sinned against your high and mighty majesty—

KING. Tush, tush, man!

BURGOMASTER (profoundly.) On my official veracity, sire.

KING. Well, well, for that I pardon him—

BURGOMASTER. And he has likewise sinned against the right worshipful the common council.

KING. The reprobate!—

BURGOMASTER. It is most veritable, Your Majesty!

KING. Well, for that terrible and enormous offence, it becomes my solemn duty to make an example of so abominable a culprit and to punish him in a must exemplary manner. Therefore—

BURGOMASTER. Yes, Your Majesty—

KING. Send him to the Castle of Spandau, to be imprisoned—

BURGOMASTER. Your Majesty—

KING. For at least—

BURGOMASTER. Sire—

KING. Half an hour (PEASANTRY laugh;)—and afterward he is at liberty to go to the devil his own way; and the right worshipful the common council may go with him, if they like!

(Exit BURGOMASTER. As he goes out, shrugging his shoulders, all the PEASANTRY laugh, until checked by a look from the KING, who crosses the stage to the Grenadiers, and addresses the CORPORAL, who has his watch-riband suspended.)

KING. Corporal! (He advances and recovers arms.)

CORPORAL. Your Majesty!

KING. I have often noticed you in the field. You are a brave soldier—and a prudent one, too, to have saved enough from your pay to buy yourself a watch.

HAROLD (aside to CORPORAL.) You remember what I told you about a hawk's eye.

CORPORAL. Brave I flatter myself I am; but as to my watch, it is of little signification.

KING (Seizing and pulling out a bullet fastened to the CORPORAL's watch-riband.) Why, this is not a watch!—It's a bullet!

CORPORAL. It's the only watch I have, Your Majesty; but I have not worn it entirely out of vanity—

KING. What have you worn it for, then? It does not show you the time of day!

CORPORAL. No; bit it clearly shows me the death I am to die in your Majesty's service.

KING. Well said, my brave fellow! And, that you may likewise see the hour among the twelve in which you ARE to die, I will give you my watch. Take it, and wear it for my sake corporal. (The KING gives the CORPORAL his watch.)

CORPORAL (with emotion.) It will also teach me that at any moment Your Majesty may command my life.

HAROLD (enthusiastically.) And the lives of us all. Long live the King!

(Flourish of drums. The KING acknowledges the salute.)

KING (to Grenadiers.) You, my brave fellows, are my own guards. I can rely upon YOU. There is no want of discipline here—eh, General? Notwithstanding all my annoyances, I am the happiest king in Christendom!

CHORUS (Grenadiers and all the characters) All hail the king!—Long live the king! Our hope in peace and war! With his renown let Prussia ring— Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! He is the pillar of the state! Our sword and buckler he! Heaven give to Frederick the Great Eternal victory!

(The GRENADIERS cheer. The OFFICERS close about the KING. Flourish and tableau. The act-drop descends on the picture.)

End of the First Act.



Act II.

Scene I.



Discovered. The stage represents a large apartment without the usual side-entrances. On the left hand is a row of long, old-fashioned windows, with painting-screens so arranged as to let the light fall obliquely on the tables beneath; at which the FACTORY GIRLS are seated, employed in painting various articles of porcelain. SOPHIA MANSFIELD is seated at the table nearest the audience. On the right are separate tables, at which GIRLS are employed mixing and grinding colors. In the center of the stage is a small platform, on which a number of painted vases, ready for the oven, are placed. KARL is engaged in examining them. At the rear of the stage is the entrance to the room—a large open door—on each side of which are rows of shelves, filled with vases, bowls, plates, jars, mantel ornaments, and the like, put there to dry. The whole representing the painting-room of the Royal Porcelain Factory. Through the doors the furnaces are seen, on which the porcelain is placed to set the colors, and which several WORKMEN are attending. The curtain rises slowly to the music.

CHORUS. (German air.) Home, home, home— Dear, lost home! Though here we pine in slavery, Our hearts are all in Saxony, Our girlhood's happy home!

Land of the free and bold, To hopeless bondage sold! While abject toil and fear Enchain thy daughters here, We yearn for thee, O Saxony!— For freedom, love, and home!

(The GIRLS attempt to waltz to the music; but, overcome by their feelings, they resume their tasks.)

SOLO—SOPHIA. Home, home, home— Dear, lost home! Though cares oppress us fearfully, We exiles carol cheerfully Of girlhood's happy home!

Beneath our native sky, The hours went swiftly by; While on a foreign soil, Our youth consumes in toil! We yearn for thee, O Saxony!— For freedom, love, and home!

(The GIRLS attempt to waltz, as before, etc.)

CHORUS. Home, home, home, etc.

(The WORKMEN and the GIRLS resume their tasks.)

(Enter Count LANISKA, ALBERT, and WEDGEWOOD.)

WEDGEWOOD (looking around, and speaking enthusiastically as he enters.) Admirable, upon my word! Every department better than the last, and this the best of all! Never saw anything like it. The colors brilliant—the designs exquisitely classical—"a place for everything, and everything in its place!"

COUNT. Whatever His Majesty constructs, whether a fortress or a factory, is perfect in all its details.

WEDGEWOOD. Yet look around, and read your monarch's history in the eyes of these prisoners of war. Observe that picture of melancholy (pointing to SOPHIA, who, during the scene, has been leaning dejectedly on her hand.—KARL standing by her side.) How reluctantly she pursues her task! Our English manufacturers work in quite another manner, for they are free!

KARL. And are free men or free women never indisposed?—or do you Englishmen blame your king whenever any of his subjects turn pale? The woman at whom you are looking is evidently ill.

WEDGEWODD. The fie upon your inhumanity for making a poor, sick girl work when she seems scarcely able to hold up her head! (Aside.) I don't half like that fellow. Villainously odd.

ALBERT (to SOPHIA.) My poor girl, what is the matter with you. The overseer says that, since you came here, you have done nothing worthy of your pencil. Yet this charming piece (pointing to an ornament on her painting)—which was brought from Saxony is of your design—is it not?

SOPHIA. Yes, sir, it was my misfortune to paint it. If the king had never seen or liked it, I should now be—

ALBERT. In Saxony; but forget that country, and you may be happy in this.

SOPHIA. I can not forget it!—I can not forget everybody that I ever loved. Ask not a Saxon woman to forget her country!

ALBERT. Whom do you love in Saxony now?

SOPHIA. Whom do I NOT love in Saxony? I have a brother there, whom I have not seen since childhood. He was at college when I was carried off from the cottage in which we both were born. He is ignorant of my fate. (She regards ALBERT with great attention, and examines his features minutely.)

ALBERT. Why do you gaze upon me so intently?

SOPHIA. I know not why, sir; but you seemed even now a dear heart-cherished one, whom I have wished for long and anxiously.

ALBERT. Think me that one, and trust me.

SOPHIA. I will—for there's a cherub nestling in my heart which whispers, "You are here to save me!" (ALBERT leads her to her task, which she resumes in great dejection of spirits.)

WEDGEWOOD (to KARL.) Is that poor girl often thus?

KARL. She sits as you see her, like one stupefied, half the day.

WEDGEWOOD. The cause of this—if it is convenient?

KARL. She has fallen to the lot of a soldier (glancing at SOPHIA)—who swears, if she delays another day to MARRY HIM, that he will complain to the king.

COUNT (turning furiously upon KARL.) Wretch! (seizes him.)

KARL (throwing him off.) This insult will cost you dear! Your scorn for the king's commands—

COUNT (scornfully.) I had forgotten. (Releases him.) You are a mere instrument in the hands of a tyrant!

KARL (aside.) That word again!—

SOPHIA (running between them, and throwing herself at the feet of LANISKA.) Save me! save me! You CAN save me! You are a powerful lord, and can speak to the king! Save me from this detested marriage.

KARL (aside to SOPHIA.) Are you mad?

COUNT (raising SOPHIA, who clings to him, and shrinks from KARL.) I will do so, or perish in the attempt!

KARL (aside.) Ah! say you so? Then the king shall know HIS enemy and MINE! [Exit.

WEDGEWOOD (noticing KARL go off.) Whew! There's mischief brewing! If that black-muzzled rascal is not hatching trouble for us all, I'll never trust my seven senses again! I wonder they permit such a bear to go at large in a garden like this—he'll root up the flowers as well as weeds.—Dangerously odd!

(Trumpet sounds without, and a buzz and hum as if of a distant crowd; the noise comes near the Factory.)

WEDGEWOOD. What's afoot now, I wonder?

ALBERT. Some new freak, no doubt, of this eccentric monarch. (Noises.)

WEDGEWOOD (looking out.) The town is all astir (noise louder)—humming and buzzing like a hive of bees! (Noise, and distant shouts.) And yonder comes a fussy little burgomaster with a proclamation, and a crowd of noisy citizens at his heels—odd! [Noise and shouts increase.

(Sophia and the other GIRLS and the WORKMEN leave their occupations, as if anxious to learn the cause of the uproar. When the buzzing, huzzaing, and noise reach the Factory, loud sound of the trumpet.)

BURGOMASTER (without.) Make way there, good people—make way there for the royal herald! (The BURGOMASTER bustles in with the HERALD—the crowd following and surrounding him—noises.) Stand back (using his wand)—stand back, you idle, ragged tatterdemalions, and pay all due reverence to the constituted authorities! (laughter)—for know all men by these presents (very pompously,) that I represent the king! (laughter.)

WEDGEWOOD. What a figure for the part! (laughter.)

BURGOMASTER (smartly striking with his wand one who laughs louder than the rest.) Take that, and let it teach you better manners in future, you scarecrow!—Now draw near, good people, and be dumb! Lend me all your ears!—

WEDGEWOOD. You have ears enough already for any two-legged animal—

BURGOMASTER. While I, by virtue of my office as a magistrate, publish this important document! (SOPHIA comes forward.)

CITIZEN (eagerly.) Now for it!

BURGOMASTER (hitting him smartly over the head.) You will, will you?—Hish! This paper is big with information to the whole realm; but more especially to the daughters of Saxony. (SOPHIA and the GIRLS of the Factory, by looks and actions, evince great interest in the reading of the paper.)

BURGOMASTER. Hish! (To HERALD.) Now proceed in regular order, and according to ancient form and usage, to read the royal proclamation!—Hish! (Hands paper to HERALD.)

HERALD (reads.) "By the grace of God, we, Frederick the Second, King of Prussia, hereby make known that he will give freedom—"

SOPHIA (eagerly aside.) Freedom? (Listens with anxiety.)

HERALD. "And a reward of five hundred crowns to the ARTIST who shall produce the most beautifully designed and highly-finished enameled porcelain vase of Berlin china; and permit her to marry whomsoever she shall think proper."

SOPHIA (aside and joyfully.) Her I aright? (The GIRLS of the Factory show great joy at this.)

HERALD. "The ARTIST's name shall be inscribed upon the vase, which shall be called 'The Prussian Vase.'"

SOPHIA (aside.) Oh, happy, happy news!

HERALD. "Signed at the Sans Souci— "By the King."

OMNES. HA-z-z-a-a-h-a-a-a-a! (Amid the shouts and general joy of the GIRLS, the BURGOMASTER bustles out, using his wand frequently, and speaking all the while; the HERALD following, and the CITIZENS buzzing and huzzaing as before.) Silence you nondescript villains!—Silence, I say! You stun me with your uproar! (Loud shout.—Passionately.) Oh, shut your ugly mugs! (Strikes them.)

WEDGEWOOD. Mugs! I like that. He's in the crockery-trade, like myself.

SOPHIA (with joy.) This proclamation has animated me with new life and energy. I feel like one inspired!

COUNT. What mean you?

SOPHIA. To become a competitor for the prize.

ALBERT. You will have many opponents.

SOPHIA. I heed them not.

WEDGEWOOD. All will be zeal throughout the manufactory.

SOPHIA. So much the greater need for my perseverance.

ALBERT. Some will be excited with the hope of gaining their liberty.

SOPHIA. Oh, blessed hope!

WEDGEWOOD. Some stimulated by the crowns.—Not at all odd.—It would be odd if they were not!

SOPHIA. But none have so strong a motive for exertion as I have.

COUNT (with enthusiasm.) Nobly resolved! I will assist you with every faculty I possess.

ALBERT (with the same feeling.) And I!

WEDGEWOOD (with the same.) And all!—If it is convenient.

SOPHIA (joyfully.) Then doubt not my success. (Exit LANISKA, ALBERT, and, WEDGEWOOD.) Oh, how my heart bounds with the thoughts of once more seeing Saxony! Its mountains, torrents, vineyards, are all before me now! And then our native songs!—They steal into my heart and melt it.

SONG AND CHORUS. (German air.) SOPHIA and FACTORY GIRLS. Sky, stream, moorland, and mountain, Tree, cot, spire, and dome, Breeze, bird, vineyard, and fountain, Kindred, friends, country, and home!— Home, home, home, home!— These are the blessings of home!

(The FACTORY-GIRLS now waltz cheerfully to the music.)

Hope how fondly I cherish, Dear land, to see thee once more! O Fate! let me not perish Far from my own native shore! Home, home, home, home!— Saxony, Liberty's home!

(The GIRLS waltz as before, etc.)

Those who freedom inherit, Bow not to Tyranny's throne; Then, friends, in a kind spirit, Judge of my love by your own. Home, home, home, home!— The land of the heart is our home!

(They all waltz with great spirit until the scene closes.)



Scene II.

A Street in Berlin. Enter FREDERICK in a cloak—KARL following.



KING. Those who have the command of motives, and know their power, have also the command of all that the arts, or what is called a genius for the arts, can produce. The human mind and human ingenuity are much the same in Italy, England, and Prussia. Then why should not we have a Prussian as well as a Wedgewood or a Barbarini vase? We shall see. I do not understand mon metier de roi, if I can not call forth talents where I know them to exist. (To KARL.) And so the count denounced me for a tyrant, did he, Karl?

KARL. He did, Your Majesty.

KING. He's a mere stripling; and I permit boys and fools to speak of me as they list. But I am no tyrant, Karl! He might have spared me that. (Musingly.) Tyrant!—

KARL (aside.) It rankles deeply.

KING (recovering from his meditation.) Youth and inexperience—to say nothing of love—pshaw!—which is the root of all folly—shall be his apology this time: but let him beware how he offends again—

KARL (aside.) It moves him as I intended.

KING. No, I am no tyrant. I should not be branded with such a title!

KARL (startled.) Branded, Your Majesty?

KING. What has happened, Karl? You are as pale as ashes! What mystery is here? I am to be trusted.

KARL. Your Majesty was ever kind; and if I might—

KING. Might! You may. Speak freely to your sovereign—your friend—and tell me what it is that weighs upon your mind.

SONG—KARL Dared these lips my sad story impart, What relief it would give to my heart! Though the scenes of past years as they rise, Bring the dews of remorse to my eyes, Yet, oh hear me, and ever conceal What in agony now I reveal!—

KING. Speak freely, Karl—

KARL. And behold, while I throw off the mask! Ah, no, no, no, no, no— I shrink in despair from the task!

In the page of my life there appears A sad passage that's written in tears! Could but that be erased, I would give All the remnant of days I may live: yet the cause of the cloud on my brow I have never disclosed until now—

KING. Say on, Karl—

KARL. Here behold!—It is branded in flame! Ah, no, no, no, no, no— I shrink in despair from my shame! [KARL rushes out.

KING. There's a mystery about that fellow that I can not understand.—Whom have we here? Oh, the English traveller who is in such a good humor with my manufactory, and who has such strange notions respecting me. Good—good!

[Draws his cloak about him and retires.

(Enter WEDGEWOOD.)

WEDGEWOOD. I begin to perceive that I shall get into some confounded scrape if I stay here much longer, and so will my young friend Mr. Worrendorf, who has made me his confidant: but mum's the word! (Seeing the KING, who is in the act of taking snuff.) Ah, use snuff, my old boy?—Odd!—Thank you for a pinch. (Takes a pinch sans ceremonie, and without the King's consent. FREDERICK shuts the box angrily. WEDGEWOOD starts back in astonishment.—Aside.) Wonder who the old-fashioned brown jug can be! I'll take him by the handle and pour him out, and see what's in him.

KING. Like the snuff?

WEDGEWOOD. Yes (snuffs)—it's decent blackguard (snuffs)—quite decent.

KING. Taste it again.

WEDGEWOOD. Don't care if I do. (Helps himself.)

KING. Perhaps you will also do me the favor to accept the box?

WEDGEWOOD (taking the box.) If it is convenient. What am I to infer from this?

KING. That you and I cannot take snuff out of the same box. MY box is not large enough for two.

WEDGEWOOD (astonished.) You don't say so! "Not large enough for two?" (Looks at the box.) Damn me if I don't think it large enough for a dozen, unless they took snuff with a shovel! (Aside.) Who in the name of all that's magnanimous can this old three-cornered cocked-hatted cockolorum be?

KING. You were overheard to say but now that you would like to see the king?

WEDGEWOOD. Overheard? (Aside.) Ah, that's the way they do everything here. A man can't sneeze without some one of the four winds of heaven reporting it to His Majesty! There is no such thing as a secret in the whole kingdom! How do the women get along, I wonder? (To FREDERICK.) "Like to see the king?" Certainly I should.

KING. That box will procure you an audience. Present it at the palace.

WEDGEWOOD. Look you here, my jolly old cock, none of your jokes—none of your tricks upon travellers, if you please. What do you mean?

KING. That I am appreciated at court.

WEDGEWOOD (aside.) Oh, there's no standing on this! (To FREDERICK.) Do you intend to say that you are personally acquainted with Frederick the Great?

KING. I know him, I believe, better than any subject in his realm. He is my most intimate friend.

WEDGEWOOD. Well, then, if that be the case, all that I have to say is, that he is not over and above nice in his choice of companions.—What an odd old file!

KING (angrily.) Look you here, Mr. Wedgewood—

WEDGEWOOD. W-e-d-g-e-w-o-o-d!—

KING. Yes—I know you well enough. You are an Englishman by birth—a crockery-merchant by trade—a gentleman from inclination—and an odd sort of character from habit. Without knowing anything more about it than the man in the moon, you have condemned the policy of the king, who is aware of all you have said and done since your arrival in Prussia.

WEDGEWOOD (alarmed.) Oh, I'll get out of this infernal country as fast as my legs can carry me! The king is all ears, like a field of corn; and all eyes, like a potato-patch!

KING. What alarms you?

WEDGEWOOD. Everything. It's all over with me! I'm an earthen teapot with the spout knocked off!—Suspiciously odd!

KING. You, sir, like too many others, are entirely mistaken in the character of Frederick. You will understand him better when we meet again (going.)

WEDGEWOOD. But, before you go, pray receive your box again!—(the KING looks at him sternly— WEDGEWOOD is greatly alarmed)—if—it—is—convenient!

KING. Not now. When next we confer, remember me.—Farewell! [Exit.

WEDGEWOOD. Remember you? I think I shall. Once seen, never forgotten. What a deep old screw!

(Enter HAROLD.)

HAROLD. The king commands your presence at the chateau of the countess.

WEDGEWOOD. The devil he does! (Looks at the box.) What's here? As I live, the royal arms! (Conceals the box from HAROLD.) Oh, the thing's plain enough. That fellow has stolen this box; and for fear of being found out, he has put it off on me! It's all up!—I've been bamboozled by the nefarious old monster of iniquity! But I'll after him straight, and have him JUGGED. If I don't, they'll make not bones of JUGGING me!—If it is convenient. [Exit in a flurry.

HAROLD. How he trembles! He's frightened out of his senses—Fear? What is it? A word not to be found in the articles of war—a soldier's only vocabulary!

SONG—HAROLD. Fiery Mars, thy votary hear! Weave for me a wreath of glory! When I rest upon my bier, Let my memory live in story! Aid my sword in time of war! In my country's cause I wield it— Only with the breath I draw, Will I to the foeman yield it!

[Exit.



Scene III.

SOPHIA MANSFIELD's apartments in the Porcelain Factory. Enter SOPHIA.



SOPHIA. 'Tis done. My vase is finished, and in the possession of the overseer. How is it with me? Although my fortunes are suspended by a single thread, an unaccustomed buoyancy pervades my bosom. Are these emotions precursors of victory, or has the love of Laniska given me a new existence, and tinged the world once more with hues of paradise? How new and fresh and strange are all he things here about my heart! This is his gift—a simple flower! He said it is an emblem of love. It is not so. Love does not perish thus!—Love can not be a flower.

SONG-SOPHIA. Ah! Love is not a garden-flower, That shoots from out the cultured earth; That needs the sunbeam and the shower, Before it wakens into birth: It owns a richer soil and seed, And woman's heart supplies them both, Where it will spring, without a weed, Consummate in its growth.

These leaves will perish when away From either genial sun or shower; Not so will wither and decay Celestial Love's perennial flower. 'Tis our companion countless miles, Through weal or woe in after years; And though it flourishes in smiles, It blooms as fresh in tears!

(Enter FREDERICA.)

FREDERICA. My dear Sophia, I am overjoyed to learn that you have completed your vase.

SOPHIA. Thanks, dear madam. Is it true that the works of the different competitors are to be exhibited at the fete of the countess, and that the decision is to be there made?

FREDERICA. It is—and the countess insists upon your being present.

SOPHIA. I am an unknown girl, madam; and if I decline the invitation, I beseech you take it not amiss.

FREDERICA. —But I will take it amiss, and so will the count and countess, whose messenger I am, and who insisted upon my bringing you to the chateau at once.

SOPHIA. Well, madam, since you will have it so—

FREDERICA. Oh, you'll be delighted. Only think of the concentrated attractions of "the court, the camp, the grove!" Oh, they're too much for any mortal woman to withstand!

DUET—SOPHIA and FREDERICA The king, the princes of the court, With lords and ladies bright, Will in their dazzling state resort To this grand fete to-night: The merry-hearted and the proud Will mingle in the glittering crowd, Who glide with Fashion's sparkling stream Where one I love will shine supreme!— La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.

The cavaliers of Italy, The gay gallants of France, With Spain and England's chivalry, Will join the merry dance. The court of Love—the camp of Mars, Fair Prussian dames, "earth-treading stars," To music's strain will float in light, Where one I love will beam to-night!— La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.

[Exit cheerfully.



Scene IV.

Discovered. Grand Saloon in the Chateau of the COUNTESS LANISKA, arranged for a Fete. The scene opens with dancing and waltzing by the CHARACTERS, and discovers the KING and retinue, LORDS and LADIES of the Court, foreign AMBASSADORS and ATTACHES, the COUNTESS LANISKA, ALBERT, WEDGEWOOD, KARL, GIRLS of the Factory, etc., etc. The CHARACTERS are variously grouped during the dance; and while all are observing the KING, who, with KARL at his side, is attentively examining the Vases, which are placed on stands on one side of the stage, the COUNT LANISKA enters, conducting, in SOPHIA and FREDERICA. After the dance, the KING speaks.



KING. The hour has arrived which is to decide the fate of the competitors. (All the CHARACTERS express by their looks and actions the utmost anxiety as to the result, and draw near to the KING.)

KARL (to KING.) The inscription upon this vase is in the handwriting of the Count Laniska.

KING. 'Tis well.

KARL (aside.) And it is a death-warrant!

KING. Subjects and children: we have reason to be proud of an art that redounds to the honor and glory of Prussia. Where all have deserved well, all shall be well remembered. (The GIRLS of the Factory manifest great joy at these words, and turn to congratulate each other. SOPHIA and LANISKA stand apart, and watch every action of the KING, while the other CHARACTERS appear greatly interested in SOPHIA.) This vase, however, I select from the rest, as the most beautiful of them all. (SOPHIA clasps her hands in great agitation.) Let this be known to after ages as "THE PRUSSIAN VASE;" and let the name here inscribed (looks at and points to the name on the vase) be chronicled throughout these realms. (Takes SOPHIA by the hand.) Sophia Mansfield is the artist and she is free! (SOPHIA, overcome by her feelings, falls on the bosom of FREDERICA.)

CHORUS. Victoria! victoria! The Saxon maid is free— Victoria! victoria! etc.

SOPHIA. My heart will break with gratitude!

COUNT. And mine with joy!

KARL (aside.) It will be of brief duration.

KING (who has regarded SOPHIA with great interest.) Let the dance proceed.

(A merry dance and waltz by the CHARACTERS, at the termination of which a tableau is formed. The utmost merriment and hilarity mark the action of the scene. At the conclusion of the dance, the KING, who has been occupied in carefully examining the Vase, wipes it with his handkerchief, which becomes stained with the paint. KARL draws his attention to the inscription.)

KARL. Behold, my liege!—

KING. Ha! What words are these? (Reads.) "To Frederick the Great Tyrant"—Treachery!— (KARL immediately seizes the Vase, and carries it off, without the inscription being seen by any but the KING.) Break off the sports!

COUNTESS (greatly astonished.) What means Your Gracious Majesty?

KING. (Who has taken out his tablets, and written on them in great haste—does not regard her, and speaks furiously.)—Let all the doors be closed! Such base ingratitude shall not go unpunished!—Give over your mirth! Ho! My guards! (Drums immediately sound.) My guards!

(Presto! Enter HAROLD, CORPORAL, and GRENADIERS, in great haste. The KING hands HAROLD his orders, and rushes out in a towering passion. Enter WEDGEWOOD. All the guests are thrown into great confusion. Re-enter KARL.)

HAROLD (promptly.) Count Laniska, stand forth!

COUNT. What is your business with me, Harold?

HAROLD. You are our prisoner.

OMNES. Prisoner?

KARL (aside.) Now I triumph!

COUNT. Under whose orders do you act?

HAROLD. Those of the king.

OMNES. The king!

HAROLD. Sophia Mansfield!

ALBERT. What of her?

HAROLD. She must away with us to the castle of Spandau.

SOPHIA. O Heaven, support me!

COUNT (drawing his sword.) Touch her at your peril, Harold!

ALBERT. This is madness! Give me your sword! (Wrests it from him, and give it to HAROLD.) Of what are they accused?

HAROLD. Of ingratitude and treason!

OMNES. Treason!

FINALE.

COUNT. Treason!

OMNES. Treason!

COUNT. It can not be! Of treason who accuses me?

HAROLD. The king himself!—These orders read! (Hands paper to COUNT.)

OMNES. The king himself!

COUNT (looking at the papers.) 'Tis true indeed!

SOPHIA. Oh, what a fearful change is here!

KARL (aside.) I triumph now!—my vengeance fear!

(SOPHIA and LANISKA are made prisoners.)

OMNES. The king's commands let all obey!

COUNT and SOPHIA. We must obey!

SOPHIA. Oh, how my trusting heart is grieved!—

COUNT. Our royal master is deceived! No traitor I!—My loyal heart Spurns with disdain so base a part!

SOPHIA. How vainly Fortune smiled on me!

SOPHIA and COUNT. Oh, give me death or liberty!

KARL. Tear them apart!

HAROLD and GRENADIERS. No more delay!

KARL. To prison, hence!—

OMNES. To prison?

HAROLD and GRENADIERS. Hence!

OMNES. Away! away!

(As the GUARDS attempt to separate COUNT LANISKA and SOPHIA, great confusion ensues, and the act-drop descends.)

End of the second act.



Act III.

Scene I.

The stage represents part of the Castle of Spandau, and is arranged as follows: On the left, is a large rock; above which, in the distance, is the Tower. A large grated door opens upon a platform, surrounded by iron railing.—COUNT LANISKA is discovered leaning upon them. On the right, is an arched cell, with part of the wall jutting from the side, behind which is a secret door. Above this is a fine view of an open country, and a clear, blue, starlight sky. SOPHIA is seated in the cell, at a table.—The whole scene is so managed that, while the AUDIENCE have a full view of everything, the PRISONERS, although they hear, can not see each other.—Time, near midnight.—The curtain rises slowly to music.



DUET—SOPHIA and COUNT.

SOPHIA. This gloomy cell is my abode at last; The sole reward for all my perils past. 'Tis strange that love within the breast should dwell, When hope, dejected, bids the heart farewell!

COUNT. What sounds are these? No human form is near, And yet that well-known voice I faintly hear, 'Twas sure the fancied music of the mind, Whose breathings mingled with the midnight wind.

BOTH. Yes!—'Tis lost!—'Tis gone!—Hark! it comes again, Like distant echoes of a melting strain: In melody {her/his} spirit floats around!— That voice!—These walls are vocal with the sound. I hear its music near me still!—'Tis there! Sure 'tis some gentle spirit of the air!

(During the duet, the moon has been gradually rising, and the light falls through the grated windows of the Prison.)

(enter JAILOR, from the Tower, to COUNT LANISKA.)

JAILOR. Count Laniska—a friend, with an order form the king.

COUNT. I attend him. [Exit Count LANISKA.

(Jailor closes the iron door over the grated window, locks it, and retires.)

SOPHIA. 'Twas but a dream!—'Tis past, and all is still again!

[The bell in the tower strikes twelve

BRAVURA—SOPHIA Hark! 'tis the deep-toned midnight bell, That bids a sad and long farewell To the departed hour; How like a dirge its music falls Within these cold and dreary walls, Where stern misfortunes lower!

Ah! vainly through these prison-bars Glide the pale beams of moon and stars, To cheer this lonely tower; From evening's close to dawn of day, Hope's star sheds not a single ray To light the solemn hour!

Alas! what pangs must guilt conceal, When innocence like mine can feel So crushed in such an hour! I know not whether love be crime— But if it is, in every clime 'Tis woman's fatal dower! I can find no clew to this most cruel treachery.

What fiend in human shape has plotted my destruction? (Sound of chains—prison-door is unlocked.) Ah! Karl here!

(Enter KARL, who secures the door through which he came in. He takes a position on the opposite side of the stage, and regards SOPHIA attentively.)

KARL. Well, Sophia, we meet at last where we can confer without the possibility of interruption. I came to save you.

SOPHIA. My life would not be worth preserving, owing anything to you.

KARL. Subdue this unavailing anger, and listen to your friend.

SOPHIA. Not to you. The enmity of such a man is a tribute paid to honesty. Friend! (scornfully.)

KARL. I came to give you liberty.

SOPHIA. How?

KARL. By flight.

SOPHIA. Where?

KARL. To Saxony.

SOPHIA. With whom!

KARL. The only one who loves you.

SOPHIA. Name him.

KARL. Behold him at your feet!

SOPHIA. What mockery is this? Mark me, Karl: I am a weak, friendless, unprotected girl. If your sex is strong, mine is resolute. Abandon your present designs—give up this useless suit, and cease to persecute the innocent.

KARL. I have heard you! Now listen to me. You are my destiny.

SOPHIA. Wretch!

KARL. I can not and I will not live without you. To secure, if not your love, at least the possession of your person, I have periled everything. You are mine by right, and I will have my own.

SOPHIA. Yours by right!—

KARL. Yes.

SOPHIA. What right?

KARL. The king gave you to me.

SOPHIA. I was not his to give.

KARL. You were his bondwoman.

SOPHIA. And his bondwoman spurned you, as she ought!

KARL. With scorn you did!—I have not forgotten it.

SOPHIA. And does so now again.

KARL. You love another!

SOPHIA. I'll not deny it.

KARL. Torture! (Draws his dagger.)

SOPHIA (greatly terrified.) Karl, you would not stain this prison-floor with blood!

KARL. I would, to strike my rival's heart through yours!—But words make the blow unnecessary. (Puts up his dagger.) Hear me, Sophia. Till I saw you, I never felt the pangs of love!—I never shed a tear! From manhood's early dawn, my savage nature could not brook reproof; nor friend nor foe had power over me. Your smile alone subdued this callous heart. Sophia, save me!—Save a repentant, wretched man!

SONG—KARL. (German air.) Once, mild and gentle was my heart! My youth from guile was free! But when love's bonds were torn apart, What joy had life for me? No words, no threats could daunt my soul, My reckless spirit spurned control Till swayed by smiles from thee!

A wanderer o'er the desert sand, And outcast on the sea, An exile from my native land— What's all the world to me? Each friend misfortune proved a foe: I scorned the high—despised the low— Till swayed by smiles from thee!

(At he conclusion of the song, enter, by the secret door, HAROLD, with a carbine, conducting in ALBERT and WEDGEWOOD stealthily.)

HAROLD (aside.) I knew that I was right.

ALBERT (aside.) Silence—on your lives!

WEDGEWOOD (aside.) If it is convenient! [They conceal themselves.

SOPHIA. It is in vain!

KARL. Then you must away with me this very night, this very hour, or perish here! (KARL advances and takes her by the wrist. ALBERT keeps WEDGEWOOD and HAROLD off.)

SOPHIA. Villain, forbear! Oh, help me, Heaven!

KARL (drawing his dagger.) You call in vain! Your doom is sealed!—Die! (As he is about to stab SOPHIA, WEDGEWOOD seizes his arm.)

WEDGEWOOD. You lie, you infernal scoundrel!

KARL. Ha! betrayed!—Have at you, then! (A struggle ensues between KARL and WEDGEWOOD, in which the former is overcome, and thrown upon the ground. SOPHIA rushes into ALBERT's arms in great agitation. HAROLD advances to the center of the stage, and aims his carbine at KARL. At the same moment, WEDGEWOOD, who has had a desperate struggle with KARL, exclaims—)

WEDGEWOOD Your dagger! your dagger! (Wrests it from him.) Now yield, or die!—(Rises, places his foot upon KARL, and holds the dagger up)—If it is convenient!

(Tableau.—Scene closes.)

[Exit.



Scene II.

Another cell in the Castle of Spandau.—Enter COUNT LANISKA and JAILOR.



JAILOR. Count Laniska, you bear the king's commission, although a prisoner; therefore, while I leave you to examine these papers (hands papers,) received from Mr. Worrendorf, I rely upon your honor not to attempt to escape.

COUNT. Your confidence is not misplaced, believe me. [Exit JAILOR.]—(Looks at papers.) My friend is unwearied in my cause. But I am a soldier, and have ever held my life at the disposal of the king. If Sophia were free and happy, I could look upon death with an undaunted spirit. (Puts up papers.) How like an angel she appeared when last I gazed upon her heavenly face—now glistening with the tear, now radiant with the smile of beauty!

SONG—LANISKA. The gentle bird on yonder spray, That sings its little life away; The rose-bud bursting into flower, And glittering in the sun and shower; The cherry-blossom on the tree— Are emblematic all of thee.

Yon moon that sways the vassal streams, Like thee in modest beauty beams; So shines the diamond of the mine, And the rock-crystal of the brine; The gems of heaven, the earth and sea, Are blended, all, dear maid, in thee!

[Exit



Scene III.

An Apartment in the Gallery of Paintings at Sans Souci. Enter ALBERT and WEDGEWOOD in haste, meeting the COUNTESS LANISKA.



ALBERT. Have you seen the king?

COUNTESS. His Majesty has not yet appeared.

WEDGEWOOD. A crate of mouldy straw for your warlike government! (Snaps his fingers.) That for your soldier-like system of doing business! I wouldn't give a broken basin for it! Why, the commanding officer has only to say, "Hang me up that tall fellow like a scarecrow," and up he goes—tzck!—or, "Give me that short chap the cat-o'-nine-tails," and, whack, he has it—or, "Shoot me yonder half-dozen specimens of humanity," and bang, 'tis done!

(Enter FREDERICK, followed by HAROLD, unperceived, at the back of the stage.)

ALBERT. If the king would but listen to reason—

WEDGEWOOD. Ay, but he won't! I never saw such a resolute old curmudgeon; and then he's so proud, too! He's like a hard-baked stone jar—he won't bend anyhow. I know why he gave me his snuff-box: it was because I happened to help myself to a pinch out of the dirty old trumpery! If he, or you, or all of you, by any chance happened to live in England, or any other civilized country, this poor count, and the girl too, would have an impartial hearing before they were condemned.

COUNTESS. But under this government we have blessings unknown to yours—

WEDGEWOOD. But me no buts, madam! Give me the blessings of living under a government where no man can be condemned without a fair trail by jury, madam. To you Prussians, this is a matter of favor; but to us Englishmen, it is a matter of right!

COUNTESS. Would to Heaven that my son and this poor girl could have such a trial!—

ALBERT. And would to Heaven I might plead their cause!

(The KING, who has paid great attention to their conversation, walks down the stage, and suddenly stands in the midst of them. They all start, and fall back.)

KING. On one condition you shall—

OMNES. The king!

KING. On one condition, young man, your prayer shall be granted.

ALBERT. Name it, sire—

KING. If you fail to convince the judges of their innocence, that you shall share their punishment. Do you agree?

ALBERT. I do, and set my life upon the issue.

KING. Your life shall answer for it if you fail. (To HAROLD.) Give orders that the hall of the castle be immediately prepared for the trial. Use dispatch, Harold! [Exit HAROLD.] (To the COUNTESS.) You, madam, I believe to be wholly ignorant of your son's treachery.

COUNTESS. If he be guilty—

KING (sarcastically.) IF he be guilty, madam?

COUNTESS. Yes, sire; if he has forgotten what Your Majesty has done for Poland, he is no son of mine!

KING. I shall spare you all the reflections I have made on the subject, madam. Tyrant as I am, I shall not punish the innocent mother for the guilty son. But perhaps this gentleman [ALBERT] and you [WEDGEWOOD] recommended trial—

WEDGEWOOD. Trial by jury! Your Majesty has said it! There's freedom in the very words!

KING. How is it to be managed?

WEDGEWOOD. Managed, Your Majesty? Why, according to law and justice.

KING. Good!

WEDGEWOOD. Twelve honest, upright, free, and independent men are empanelled to hear the case—

KING. Good again!

WEDGEWOOD. All the witnesses are examined, and all the testimony fairly summed up by learned counsel!

KING. Excellent!

WEDGEWOOD. Then the grave expounders of the law—the judges—charge the jury, who, upon their oaths, return a verdict—

KING. A glorious institution!

WEDGEWOOD. The shield and protection of the rights of man—the bulwark of civil and religious liberty—and the admiration of the whole civilized world! Democratically odd!

KING. Well—well—well—so justice be done, I care not for the means.

WEDGEWOOD. By jingo, he genuine porcelain! It's all right—fair, square, and above board—a clear field and no favor!

(Enter HAROLD.)

HAROLD. Everything is in preparation. The judges are proceeding to their seats; the jury will soon be sworn, and the prisoners arraigned at the bar—

WEDGEWOOD (to HAROLD.) Who's the crier of the court?

HAROLD. That office is not yet filled. [Exit.

WEDGEWOOD. That won't do—Illegally odd!

KING. Perhaps, Mr. Wedgewood, you would like the appointment yourself?

WEDGEWOOD. If it is convenient.

KING. I confer it upon you.

WEDGEWOOD. Thank Your Majesty. By Jove, we're sailing with wind and tide—a smooth sea below and a clear sky above us!

KING. Well, gentlemen, I wish you a prosperous voyage; but take care that you do not run your vessel upon the rocks of litigation, and founder among the quicksands of the law.

WEDGEWOOD. No danger, Your Majesty, with such a pilot! [ALBERT.]—(Sudden and loud shouts and confused noise without. Drums beat to arms.) What is the meaning of all this commotion?

(Enter HAROLD, in haste.)

KING. Out with it, Harold!

HAROLD. The rumor of the treachery and ingratitude of the prisoners has spread like wildfire throughout the city—

KING. Well!—

HAROLD. The populace are in a ferment at the indignity offered to our beloved monarch, and demand the instant execution of the prisoners.

KING. Well, well; say on.

HAROLD. The multitude crowd every avenue to the palace, and the chateau of the countess; and the royal guards are under arms to preserve the public peace.

KING. So, so, so, so—

COUNTESS. O Heaven! what will become of us?

KING (proudly.) Have you not the king's protection? I will appear among my children, who are so apprehensive about my safety, that they sometimes forget themselves, and become a little unruly. They will be satisfied when they hear and see their father. (Seeing the COUNTESS look dejected.) Do not droop madam; your GUILTY SON shall have a fair and impartial trial. (Taking her hand—To ALBERT sternly.) Look to it, sir; for if you fail, you know what follows! (Exit FREDERICK and COUNTESS—Immense cheering and beating of drums without.)

WEDGEWOOD. Bravo! He's a trump.—Bless me! a popular commotion!—No matter—I am crier of the court! Let me catch any of the little boys making a noise in the halls of justice—that's all! I'll make the king himself mind his P's and Q's, if he dares to interfere with OUR grave deliberations! I will act as becomes my station. His Majesty has a jewel in me, and I'll convince him that authority in my hands is a knock-down argument—so-fist-ically odd!

SONG—WEDGEWOOD. That law's the perfection of reason, No one in his senses denies; Yet here is a trial for treason Will puzzle the wigs of the wise. The lawyers who bring on the action On one single point will agree, Though proved to their own satisfaction That tweedle-dum's NOT tweedle-dee!

To settle disputes, in a fury The sword from the scabbard we draw; But reason appeals to a jury, And settles—according to law. Then hey for the woolsack!—for never Without it can nations be free; But trial by jury for ever! And for tyranny—fiddle-de-dee!

[Exit.



Scene the last.

Discovered. The whole stage is thrown open, and represents the Hall of the Palace at Potsdam, arranged as a court-room. On a carpeted platform is the royal seat of state, occupied by three JUDGES. On the right and left of them are cushioned seats for the KING and his retinue, and OFFICERS of state. In front of the judgement-seat is a large center-table, on which are various law-books and the Prussian Vase. Around the table are suitable places for the ADVOCATES in the cause. On each side are elevated benches, occupied by the GIRLS of the Factory, behind whom are stationed platoons of the ROYAL GUARDS. At the end of the benches on the right is the jury-box, with twelve JURORS, and the desk of the CRIER, on which is a small mallet. Around the whole stage is a large gallery, crowded with the CITIZENS of Potsdam.—The entire scene is intended to represent an English Criminal Court of Law of the olden time, in full costume, with scarlet robes, ermine gowns, etc.—The following CHARACTERS are discovered in their respective places: BARON ALTENBERG, the ATTORNEY-GENERAL and ADVOCATE for the crown; the WORKMEN of the Factory, as WITNESSES; the JAILOR, HANS, GERTRUDE, HAROLD, and CORPORAL; COUNT LANISKA, guarded, attended by the COUNTESS and FREDERICA; SOPHIA MANSFIELD, guarded, and attended by Factory-GIRLS; ALBERT, as ADVOCATE for the PRISONERS, and WEDGEWOOD, as CRIER of the Court; OFFICERS of state, LADIES of the Court, PORTERS of the Hall, and the KING.—This scene is accompanied by the ORCHESTRA.—Music as the scene opens—



CHORUS. With mercy let justice To mortals be given, For Justice and Mercy Are twin-born in heaven!

(As BARON ALTENBERG rises, WEDGEWOOD says, in a subdued tone of voice, and very respectfully.)

WEDGEWOOD. Silence in the court!

ALTENBERG. May it please your lordships, these facts are not denied: the inscription in the handwriting of the count; his free access to the factory; his frequent use of the word TYRANT when speaking of the king; his earnest interest in the Saxon maid; her love for the count, and her opposition to the will of our most gracious sovereign for allotting her to the overseer as his bride: and they all unite in establishing their crime, the punishment of which is DEATH. Had not His Majesty chanced to wipe off, with his own handkerchief, the blue paint which concealed the word TYRANT, the vase would have been sent to Paris, the king and people disgraced, and the criminals safe in Saxony. Yes, gentlemen (to the JURY,) this splendid ornament, which is to be known to all future ages as "The Prussian Vase," is defaced with the treasonable inscription—"To Frederick the Great Tyrant."

KING (rising in excitement, and forgetting himself.) Yes, soldiers and subjects, friends and children, this word is applied to ME—to your FATHER—by these base ingrates here!—

CHORUS Shame, shame, shame! Long live the king! etc.

WEDGEWOOD (in a commanding tone, and striking the desk with his mallet.) Silence in the court, or I'll put you in the stocks, juvenile delinquents and all! What an odd people!

KING. I beg the indulgence of your lordships for my infirmities of temper. Let the cause proceed. (Takes his seat.)

JUDGE. The case for the crown, gentlemen, is fully before you, and is submitted in the confidence that you will discharge your duty faithfully.

KING (again forgetting himself.) Ay, discharge your duty faithfully!

WEDGEWOOD (with great authority rapping on the desk.) Silence in the court, Your Majesty!

JUDGE. Let the counsel for the prisoners now proceed.

ALBERT. Place Karl in the witness-box.

(Enter KARL and HAROLD.)

SOLO and CHORUS.

KARL. What outrage more, at whose command Am I thus shackled and restrained?— What mockery's this? In this free land The subject's rights should be maintained.

CHORUS. The traitor braves the king's command!

KARL. Those whom the lion would ensnare, Should of his reckless fangs beware! The forest-monarch, held at bay, Will turn and spring upon his prey!

CHORUS. Thus bold will guilt full oft appear!— The sword of Justice let HIM fear!

WEDGEWOOD (as KARL is placed in the witness-box.) Silence in the court!

CHORUS. With mercy let justice To mortals be given; For Mercy and Justice Are twin-borne of heaven.

KARL. Why am I summoned here against my will?

ALBERT. You are here to answer, not to question, sirrah!

KARL. By what authority do YOU command my answers? In these realms the king alone commands.

KING (again forgetting himself.) That's true—that's very true—the king alone commands—

WEDGEWOOD (shaking his mallet at the KING.) What, Your Majesty—you will—will you?

KING. Oh, I have forgotten myself again! (Takes his seat.) Confound the fellow!

KARL (aside.) The king here? Then I have one friend at least on whom I may rely. (To KING.) Shall I—may I speak freely?

KING. The king has no authority now. (Pointing to the jury-box.) There are the sovereigns of the people, and to them you must appeal. (Aside.) What a situation for a monarch!

ALBERT (to KARL.) You know yon Saxon maid and the Count Laniska?

KARL. I do, and HATE the count!

ALBERT. Wherefore?

KARL. He has thwarted my designs!—No, no, I mean not THAT! I mean that I hate him because he plotted treason against the king, and wrote "Tyrant" upon the vase.

ALBERT. Did he write it?

KARL. He did—these eyes beheld him.

COUNT (aside.) The perjured caitiff!

SOPHIA. O Heaven, have mercy upon us!

COUNTESS. They are lost!

(COUNTESS leans on FREDERICA. The KING beckons to HAROLD, who goes to him. They engage in earnest conversation, occasionally pointing to KARL. HAROLD is supposed to be informing him of the arrest of KARL in SOPHIA's cell. KARL leaves the witness-box, and is about to retire, but is stopped by HAROLD.)

ALBERT. Call the German inn-keeper to the stand. [HANS is placed in the box.

KARL (aside.) I tremble with apprehension!

ALBERT (to HANS.) You deal in colors—do you not?

HANS. Yaw, mynherr.

ALBERT. Have you sold any in Berlin lately?

HANS. Yaw, mynheer; I sold some of der Prussian blue to der Hungarian overseer of der factory, who gave me monish to say notting about it. He tried der quality upon dis little scrap of baper, vich he forgot, and vich I kept, mit der intention of giving him back ven I saw him again. It is scrawled all over mit der word "Tyrant."

KARL (forgetting himself.) That paper's mine—give it me!

WEDGEWOOD (instantly snatching the paper and holding it up, exclaims in a loud tone) It's not convenient! (Hands the paper to ALBERT, who reads it to the JUDGES.)

ALBERT. An attempt to imitate the handwriting of the count. Compare it with the word upon the vase.

JUDGE. It is the same!

CHORUS. Huzza! huzza! etc.

WEDGEWOOD (forgetting himself, after the chorus has finished, shouts at the top of his voice,) Huzza!—(which the KING observing, rises to call him to order; when WEDGEWOOD, noticing the KING, places his hand upon his own mouth; and looking round, and holding his mallet in a threatening manner over KARL, who is silent by way of excusing his mistake, says)—But silence in the court! (The KING, shaking his finger at WEDGEWOOD, takes his seat; HANS leaves the box.)

ALBERT. Place that workman on the stand. (It is done.) Did you ever see this vase before?

WORKMAN. Yes, sir.

ALBERT. Where?

WORKMAN. I saw Karl receive it for the furnace, and I saw him marking upon it with a sharp instrument, which he suddenly hid in his bosom. (KARL feels for his dagger, and half draws it, looking at SOPHIA ferociously. SOPHIA observes him narrowly, and with great apprehension.)

ALBERT. Who took the vase from the furnace?

WORKMAN. Karl.

ALBERT. Who had possession of it afterward?

WORKMAN. Karl.

ALBERT. Who pointed out the word "Tyrant" to the king at the fete of the countess?

KING (rising with great emotion, and entirely forgetting himself.) Karl!

ALBERT. Who has misled, blinded, and deceived the king?

KING (with great emotion.) Traitorous, fiendlike Karl!

KARL (aloud.) I am stunned with horror!

KING (leaving his seat and coming down in great haste—WEDGEWOOD raises his hammer.) By your leave, Mr. Wedgewood.

CHORUS (as the KING descends.) Long live the king! etc.

(the KING takes his station in the center of the stage, and lifts his hat.)

KING. If the court please—

WEDGEWOOD (aside.) Bravo! His Majesty is becoming a principal witness! (In a subdued tone of voice.) Silence in the court!—The king speaks!

KING (rapidly.) I see it all! The case is clear. Karl had my permission to espouse Sophia. She refused him. Laniska loved her. Karl hated him, and planned her destruction; visited her in prison; tried to force her to fly the country with him; she refused, and he would have slain her, had not Mr. Wedgewood, the Advocate, and Harold—who has just told me all—struck him to the ground. Karl plotted this mischief—Karl bought the paint—Karl wrote the word—and Karl shall DIE!

KARL (draws his dagger.) But not unavenged! (He darts toward SOPHIA, and makes an attempt to stab her. SOPHIA shrieks, and runs to LANISKA. All the CHARACTERS rise, greatly excited, and watch the scene with deep interest. The GUARDS present their pikes to the breast of KARL, who is seized by HAROLD and CORPORAL—in the brief struggle with whom, KARL's shirt-sleeve is torn open, and the felon's brand is discovered on his arm. To this ALBERT points in triumph—Tableau.—The whole action is instantaneous.)

HAROLD (with great eagerness.) Behold, my liege, the felon's brand! (Presto!—all start with astonishment.)

CHORUS. Now, who's the traitor?

[The JURYMEN rise.

QUITETTE and CHORUS.

KARL. The javelin from an unseen hand Was sent that laid me low!— Behold exposed the felon's brand Unto my mortal foe!

CHORUS. Who's now the traitor? etc.

JUDGE (promptly.) What say the jury?

FOREMAN (promptly.) The prisoners are innocent! (Presto!—all start with joy.)

CHORUS. The prisoners are innocent! etc.

(Some of the CHARACTERS clasp their hands—others embrace. SOPHIA and LANISKA turn to ALBERT, and the COUNTESS and FREDERICA to the KING, in gratitude.)

KARL. Oh, rage and fury! (KARL is secured by HAROLD and CORPORAL.)

CHORUS. Rejoice! our loyal hearts we bring As free-will offerings to the king!

SOLO—SOPHIA and KING. Oh, let me to thy ermine cling. In gratitude, (kneels,) God bless the king!

CHORUS. God save the king! Long live the king! etc.

(The WORKMEN and GIRLS of the Factory, ADVOCATES, OFFICERS, SOLDIERS, LADIES, and GENTLEMEN, SPECTATORS, and all the CHARACTERS on the stage, indicate by appropriate and spontaneous action the deep and intense interest they take in the verdict.—KARL gasps and faints, and is supported by HAROLD and CORPORAL.—WEDGEWOOD notices the tableau with great self-complacency—[The whole action is simultaneous]—KARL is borne off by HAROLD and CORPORAL. All the CHARACTERS then turn, and by looks and actions congratulate each other, and the scene instantly becomes one of general joy.)

KING. This court is now dissolved. (The principal CHARACTERS leave their stations; and all the PARTIES, except the JUDGES and those in the gallery, come upon the stage.—To the JUDGES.) Your lordships must pardon all irregularities. This is the first trial by jury that ever took place in Prussia. Hereafter, no human power shall interrupt your grave deliberations. (To COUNT LANISKA.) Count Laniska, I took your sword from you this morning: I here present you mine. (COUNT kneels, and receives it.)

COUNT. This, with my life, I dedicate to Your Majesty's service!

KING (to ALBERT.) As for you, sir, the sword, is not your weapon. (HAROLD advances with a golden pen upon a velvet cushion. ALBERT kneels.) Receive this emblem of far greater power than all the implements of war, and wield it for the benefit of mankind. Rise, Baron—

ALBERT. Mansfield, Your Majesty—

KING (with surprise.) Mansfield?

SOPHIA. My heart was not deceived! My long-lost brother!

ALBERT (ALBERT and SOPHIA rush into each other's arms.) My dear, dear sister!

KING (looking at them.) So, so, so! Oh, what an old fool I have been! (Looking around.) Come hither, Sophia. (She advances; the KING takes her hand.) I owe you some amends for your long and patient suffering on my account (taking the COUNT's hand)—and thus I make them. (SOPHIA and LANISKA join hands joyfully.) How well the criminals understand each other! (Rubbing his hands, and walking joyfully about the stage.) Ah, Mr. Wedgewood, I don't care if I take a pinch of snuff out of that same box I gave you the other day.

WEDGEWOOD (presenting box.) Your Majesty has added to its value a diamond worth all the rest, in finding it is large enough for two of us.

KING. Good! (Notices FREDERICA.) What! Frederica, my fair namesake and little god-daughter—in the dumps? (Looking at ALBERT.) Oh, I understand. (To COUNTESS.) By your leave madam. (Hands FREDERICA to ALBERT.) You perceive, Mr. Wedgewood, that I have a large family to look after and provide for; but I am a happy father, sir—mine are good children, very good children! I wish I had more like these.

WEDGEWOOD (significantly.) If Your Majesty goes on in this way, there'll be plenty more—IN TIME.

KING. All are now satisfied—at least I hope all are so here. (To the audience.) If, as a king, I may, on another occasion, command an audience—

WEDGEWOOD (forgetting himself, lifting his mallet and flourishing it like an auctioneer.) Going! (Recollecting himself.)—I mean—(slowly and with gravity)—s-i-l-e-n-c-e i-n t-h-e c-o-u-r-t! (meaning the audience.)

KING. These witnesses will, I am sure, attend the next trial of The Maid of Saxony—

WEDGEWOOD. If it is convenient.

FINALE. Our hearts are bounding with delight! 'Tis Freedom's jubilee! For right has triumphed over might— The bond again are free! Hurrah!—hurrah! Let the welkin ring To Justice and Liberty Paeans we sing!

(Tableau—Curtain falls.)

End of the Maid of Saxony.



Notes.



The Deserted Bride (page 51.)

This poem was written after seeing Miss Fanny Kemble, for the first time, in one scene of "The Hunchback."

The Croton Ode (page 57.)

Written at the request of the Corporation of the city of New York, and sung near the Park Fountain by the members of the New York Sacred Music Society, on the completion of the Croton Aqueduct, October, 14, 1842.

Woodman, Spare That Tree! (page 64.)

Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a friend, who was once the expectant heir of the largest estate in America, but over whose worldly prospects a blight has recently come, he invited me to turn down a little romantic woodland pass not far from Bloomingdale. "Your object?" inquired I. "Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather, near a cottage that was once my father's."—"The place is yours, then?" said I. "No, my poor mother sold it;" and I observed a slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that circumstance. "Dear mother!" resumed my companion, "we passed many happy, HAPPY days, in that old cottage; but it is nothing to me now—father, mother, sisters, cottage—all are gone!"—and a paleness over-spread his fine countenance, and a moisture came to his eyes, as he spoke. After a moment's pause, he added: "Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is, I never ride out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a familiar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone summer-time it was a friend indeed. Under its branches I often listened to the good counsel of my parents, and had SUCH gambols with my sisters! Its leaves are all off now, so you won't see it to advantage, for it is a glorious old fellow in summer; but I like it full as well in winter-time." These words were scarcely uttered, when my companion cried out, "There it is?" Near the tree stood an old man, with his coat off, sharpening an ax. He was the occupant of the cottage. "What do you intend doing?" asked my friend with great anxiety. "What is that to you?" was the blunt reply. "You are not going to cut that tree down, surely?"—"Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. "What for?" inquired my companion, almost choked with emotion. "What for? Why, because I think proper to do so. What for? I like that! Well, I'll tell you what for. This tree makes my dwelling unhealthy; it stands too near the house: prevents the moisture from exhaling, and renders us liable to fever-and-ague."—"Who told you that?"—"Dr. S—-."—"Have you any other reason for wishing to cut it down?"—"Yes, I am getting old; the woods are a great way off, and this tree is of some value to me to burn." He was soon convinced, however, that the story about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there never had been a case of that disease in the neighborhood; and then was asked what the tree was worth for firewood. "Why, when it is down, about ten dollars." "Suppose I make you a present of that amount, will you let it stand?"—"Yes."—"You are sure of that?"—"Positive."—"Then give me a bond to that effect." I drew it up; it was witnessed by his daughter; the money was paid, and we left the place with an assurance from the young girl, who looked as smiling and beautiful as Hebe, that the tree should stand as long as she lived. We returned to the road, and pursued our ride. These circumstances made a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished me with materials for the song I herewith send you.—Extract from a Letter to Henry Russell, the Vocalist, dated New York, February 1, 1837.

The Chieftain's Daughter (page 78.)

"Every part of the brief but glorious life of Pocahontas is calculated to produce a thrill of admiration, and to reflect the highest honor on her name. The most memorable event of her life is this recorded: After a long consultation among the Indians, the fate of Captain Smith, who was the leader of the first colony in Virginia, was decided. The conclave resumed their silent gravity. Two huge stones were placed near the water's edge; Smith was lashed to them, and his head was laid down, as a preparation for beating out his brains with war-clubs. Powhattan raised the fatal instrument, and the savage multitude with their blood-stained weapons stood near their king, silently waiting the prisoner's last moment. But Smith was not destined to thus perish. Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the king, rushed forward, fell upon her knees, and, with tears and entreaties, prayed that the victim might be spared. The royal savage rejected her suit, and commanded her to leave Smith to his fate. Grown frantic at the failure of her supplications, Pocahontas threw her arms about Smith, and laid her head on his, her raven hair falling around his neck and shoulders, declaring she would perish with or save him. The Indians gasped for breath, fearing that Powhatan would slay his child for taking such a deep interest in the fate of one he considered his deadliest foe. But human nature is the same everywhere; the war-club dropped from the monarch's hand—his brow relaxed—his heart softened; and, as he raised his brave daughter to his bosom, and kissed her forehead, he reversed his decree, and directed Smith to be set at liberty! Whether the regard of this glorious girl for Smith ever reached the feeling of love, is not known. No favor was ever expected in return. 'I ask nothing of Captain Smith,' said she, in an interview she afterward had with him in England, 'in recompense for what I have done, but the boon of living in his memory.' John Randolph was a lineal descendant of this noble woman, and was wont to pride himself upon the honor of his descent. Pocahontas died in the twenty-second year of her age."—sketches of Virginia.

Song of Marion's Men (page 82.)

"Sallie St. Clair was a beautiful, dark-eyed Creole girl. The whole treasury of her love was lavished upon Sergeant Jasper, who, on one occasion, had the good fortune to save her life. The prospect of their separation almost maddened her. To sever her long, jetty ringlets from her exquisite head—to dress in male attire—to enroll herself in the corps to which he belonged, and follow his fortunes in the wars, unknown to him—was a resolution no sooner conceived than taken. In the camp she attracted no particular attention, except on the night before battle, when she was noticed bending over his couch, like a good and gentle spirit, as if listening to his dreams. The camp was surprised, and a fierce conflict ensued. The lovers were side by side in the thickest of the fight; but, endeavoring to turn away a lance aimed at the heart of Jasper, the poor girl received it in her own, and fell bleeding at his feet. After the victory, her name and sex were discovered, and there was not a dry eye in the corps when Sallie St. Clair was laid in her grave, near the river Santee, in a green, shady nook, that looked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise."—Tales of Marion's Men.

Janet McRea (page 83.)

"We seated ourselves in the shade of a large pine-tree, and drank of a spring that gurgled beneath it. The Indians gave a groan, and turned their faces from the water. They would not drink of the spring, nor eat in the shade of the tree; but retired to a ledge of rocks at no great distance. I ventured to approach them and inquire the cause of their strange conduct. One of the Indians said, in a deep and solemn tone: 'That place is bad for the red-man; the blood of an innocent woman, not of our enemies, rests upon that spot!—She was there murdered. The red-man's word had been pledged for her safety; but the evil spirit made him forget it. She lies buried there. No one avenged her murder, and the Great Spirit was angry. That water will make us more thirsty, and that shade will scorch us. The stain of blood is on our hands, and we know not how to wipe it out. It still rests upon us, do what we will.' I could get no more from them; they were silent, even for Indians. It was the death of Miss McRea they alluded to. She was betrothed to a young American by the name of Jones, who had taken sides with the British, and become a captain of their service. The lovers, however, had managed to keep up a correspondence; and he was informed, after a battle in which he distinguished himself for his bravery, that his inamorata was concealed in a house a few miles from Sandy-Hill. As it was dangerous for him to take his horse to her residence and bring her to his tent in safety. He urged her, in his letter, not to hesitate a moment in putting herself under their protection; and the voice of a lover is law to a confiding woman. They proceeded on their journey, and stopped to rest under a large pine-tree near a spring—the one at which we drank. Here they were met by another party of Indians, also sent by the impatient lover, when a quarrel arouse about her which terminated in her assassination. One of the Indians pulled the poor girl from her horse; and another struck his tomahawk in her forehead, tore off her scalp, and gashed her breast! They then covered her body with leaves, and left her under the huge pine-tree. One of the Indians made her lover acquainted with the facts, and another brought him her scalp. He knew the long brown tresses of Miss McRea, and, in defiance of all danger, flew to the spot to realize the horrid scene. He tore away the thinly-spread leaves—clasped the still-bleeding body in his arms, and, wrapping it in his cloak, was about bearing it away, when he was prevented by his superior officers, who ordered the poor girl to be buried on the spot where she had been immolated. After this event a curse seemed to rest upon the red-man. In every battle their forces were sadly cut up—the Americans attacking them most furiously whenever they could get an opportunity. The prophets of the Indians had strange auguries; they saw constantly in the clouds the form of the murdered white woman, invoking the blasts to overwhelm them, and direction all the power and fury of the Americans to exterminate every red-man of the forest who had committed the hateful deed of breaking his faith and staining the tomahawk with the blood of a woman, whose spirit still called for revenge. It was agreed among the Indians in a body to move silently away; and by morning's light not a red-man was to be found near the British troops. Captain Jones, too, was no more. In the battle he led on his men with that fearlessness and fury that distressed minds often do; but his men grew tired of following him in such perilous attacks, and began to fly. As he returned to rally them he received a ball in the back. Burning with shame, love, and frenzy, he tuned and threw himself on the bayonets of the enemy, and at once closed his agonies and expiated his political offence. He was laid by the side of her he had so ardently loved and deeply lamented."—Events of the Revolution.

THE END

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