August von Kotzebue

“ A man like you thus to crouch beneath the chance of fortune!
Stra. Steinfort! I did think, that the opinion of all mankind was alike indifferent to me; but I feel that it is not so. My friend, you shall not quit me without learning how I have been robbed of every joy which life afforded. Listen: much misery may be contained in a few words. Attracted by my native country, I quitted you and the service. What pleasing pictures did I draw of a life employed in improving society, and diffusing happiness! ”

“ Enter Peter.
Pet. Pooh! pooh!—never tell me.—I'm a clever lad, for all father's crying out every minute, "Peter," and "stupid Peter!" But I say, Peter is not stupid, though father will always be so wise. First, I talk too much; then I talk too little; and if I talk a bit to myself, he calls me a driveller. Now, I like best to talk to myself; for I never contradict myself, and I don't laugh at myself, as other folks do. That laughing is often a plaguy teazing custom. To be sure, when Mrs. Haller laughs, one can bear it well enough ”

“ I do not learn whether their coming to this place be but the whim of a moment, or a plan for a longer stay: if the latter, farewell, solitude! farewell, study!—farewell!—Yes, I must make room for gaiety, and mere frivolity. Yet could I willingly submit to all; but, should the Countess give me new proofs of her attachment, perhaps of her respect, Oh! how will my conscience upbraid me! Or—I shudder at the thought! if this seat be visited by company, and chance should conduct hither any of my former acquaintance—Alas! alas! how wretched is the being who fears the sight of any one fellow-creature! ”

“ Already had I apparently overcome my chagrin: already had I at least assumed that easy gaiety once so natural to me, when the sight of this child in an instant overpowered me. When the Countess called him William—Oh! she knew not that she plunged a poniard in my heart. I have a William too, who must be as tall as this, if he be still alive. Ah! yes, if he be still alive. His little sister too! Why, fancy, dost thou rack me thus? Why dost thou image my poor children, fainting in sickness, and crying to their mother? To the mother who has abandoned them? ”

“ Things that happen every day; occurrences heard of in every street. Steinfort, if I am not to hate you, ask me not another question. If I am to love you, leave me.
Bar. Oh, Charles! awake the faded ideas of past joys. Feel, that a friend is near. Recollect the days we passed in Hungary, when we wandered arm in arm upon the banks of the Danube, while nature opened our hearts, and made us enamoured of benevolence and friendship. ”

“ Enter Baron Steinfort, ushered in by Peter and Footmen. Peter mimicks and apes his father.
Sol. I have the honour to introduce to your lordship myself, Mr. Solomon, who blesses the hour in which fortune allows him to become acquainted with the Honourable Baron Steinfort, brother-in-law of his Right Honourable Excellency Count Wintersen, my noble master.
Pet. Bless our noble master!
Bar. Old and young, I see they'll allow me no peace. [Aside.] Enough, enough, good Mr. Solomon. I am a soldier. I pay but few compliments, and require as few from others. ”

“ Now, Lady Wintersen, summon all your charms. There is no art in conquering us poor devils; but this strange man, who does not care a doit for you all together, is worth your efforts. Try your skill. I shan't be jealous.
Countess. I allow the conquest to be worth the trouble. But what Mrs. Haller has not been able to affect in three months, ought not to be attempted by me. ”

“ Yes, I am a messenger from her; but without power to treat. She, who loves you unutterably, who without you never can be happy, renounces your forgiveness; because, as she thinks, your honour is incompatible with such a weakness.
Stra. Pshaw! I am not to be caught.
Bar. Charles! consider well—
Stra. Steinfort, let me explain all this. I have lived here four months. Adelaide knew it.
Bar. Knew it! She never saw you till to-day.
Stra. That you may make fools believe. Hear further: she knows too, that I am not a common sort of man; that my heart is not to be attacked in the usual way. ”

“ Why, Mr. Solomon, who is Mrs. Haller? You know every thing; you hear every thing.
Sol. I have received no letters from any part of Europe on the subject, Miss.
Char. But who is to blame? The Count and Countess. She dines with them; and at this very moment is drinking tea with them. Is this proper?
Sol. By no means.
Char. Shouldn't a Count and a Countess, in all their actions, show a certain degree of pride and pomposity?
Sol. To be sure! To be sure they should!
Char. No, I won't submit to it. I'll tell her ladyship, when I dress her to-morrow, that either Mrs. Haller or I must quit the house. ”

“ The deserted husband and the guilty wife are both presented to the audience as voluntary exiles from society: the one through poignant sense of sorrow for the connubial happiness he has lost—the other, from deep contrition for the guilt she has incurred. ”

“ Solomon, why were you not nimble enough to have saved his young lordship?
Sol. Not in time, my sweet Miss. Besides, mercy on us! I should have sunk like a lump of lead: and I happened to have a letter of consequence in my pocket, which would have been made totally illegible; a letter from Constantinople, written by Chevalier—What's his name? [Draws a letter from his pocket, and putting it up again directly, drops it. Peter takes it up, slily and unobserved.] It contains momentous matter, I assure you. The world will be astonished when it comes to light ”

“ Enter Solomon.
Sol. The Stranger begs leave to have the honour—
Count. Welcome! Welcome.
[Exit Solomon.
[Turns to meet the Stranger, whom he conducts in by the hand.]
My dear sir—Lady Wintersen—Mrs. Haller—
[Mrs. Haller, as soon as she sees the Stranger, shrieks, and swoons in the arms of the Baron. The Stranger casts a look at her, and struck with astonishment and horror, rushes out of the room. The Baron and Countess bear Mrs. Haller off; Count following, in great surprise.]
ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. The Antichamber.
Enter Baron.
Bar. Oh! deceitful hope! Thou phantom of future happiness! ”

“ Countess. This is affectation! A desire to appear singular! Every one wishes to make himself distinguished. One sails round the world; another creeps into a hovel.
Bar. And the man apes his master!
Countess. Come, brother, let us seek the Count. He and Mrs. Haller turned into the lawn—
[Going.
Bar. Stay. First a word or two, sister. I am in love.
Countess. For the hundreth time.
Bar. For the first time in my life.
Countess. I wish you joy. [Pg 42]
Bar. Till now you have evaded my inquiries. Who is she? I beseech you, sister, be serious. There is a time for all things.
Countess. Bless us! ”

“ Bar. No; who has deliberately poised advantage against disadvantage; domestic ease and comfort against the false gaieties of fashion. I can withdraw into the country. I need no honours to make my tenants happy; and my heart will teach me to make their happiness my own. With such a wife as this, children who resemble her, and fortune enough to spread comfort around me, what would the soul of man have more?
Countess. This is all vastly fine. I admire your plan; only you seem to have forgotten one trifling circumstance.
Bar. And that is—
Countess. Whether Mrs. Haller will have you or not. ”

“ Enter Solomon.
Sol. Well, for once I think I have the advantage of Madam Haller. Such a dance have I provided to welcome their Excellencies, and she quite out of the the secret! And such a hornpipe by the little Brunette! I'll have a rehearsal first though, and then surprise their honours after dinner.
[Flourish of rural music without. [Pg 22]
Pet. [Without.] Stop; not yet, not yet: but make way there, make way, my good friends, tenants, and villagers.—John! George! Frederick! Good friends, make way.
Sol. It is not the Count: it's only Baron Steinfort. Stand back, I say; and stop the music! ”

“ Who is this Mrs. Haller? Why do I always follow her path? Go where I will, whenever I try to do good, she has always been before me.
Fra. You should rejoice at that.
Stra. Rejoice!
Fra. Surely! That there are other good and charitable people in the world beside yourself.
Stra. Oh, yes!
Fra. Why not seek to be acquainted with her? I saw her yesterday in the garden up at the Castle. Mr. Solomon, the steward, says she has been unwell, and confined to her room almost ever since we have been here. But one would not think it, to look at her; for a more beautiful creature I never saw. ”

“ Haller has not drank it, I suppose?
Sol. Not she herself, for she never drinks wine. But if any body be ill in the village, any poor woman lying-in, away goes a bottle of the six-and-twenty! Innumerable are the times that I've reproved her; but she always answers me snappishly, that she will be responsible for it.
Bar. So will I, Mr. Solomon.
Sol. Oh! with all my heart, your Honourable Lordship. It makes no difference to me. I had the care of the cellar twenty years, and can safely take my oath, that I never gave the poor a single drop in the whole course of my trust. ”

“ If sincere repentance, if years without reproach, do not give us a title to man's forgiveness, what must we expect hereafter? No, lovely penitent! your contrition is complete. Error for a moment wrested from slumbering virtue the dominion of your heart; but she awoke, and, with a look, banished her enemy for ever. I know my friend. He has the firmness of a man; but, with it, the gentlest feelings of your sex. I hasten to him. With the fire of pure disinterested friendship will I enter on this work ”

“ Kemble's emaciated frame, sunken eye, drooping head, and death-like paleness; his heart-piercing lamentation, that—"he trusted a friend who repaid his hospitality, by alluring from him all that his soul held dear,"—are potent warnings to the modern husband.
Mrs. Siddons, in Mrs. Haller (the just martyr to her own crimes) speaks in her turn to every married woman; and, in pathetic bursts of grief—in [Pg 5] looks of overwhelming shame—in words of deep reproach against herself and her seducer—"conjures each wife to revere the marriage bond." ”

“ To thee have I stretched out my arms, and thou hast vanished into air! Wretched Steinfort! The mystery is solved. She is the wife of my friend! I cannot myself be happy; but I may, perhaps, be able to reunite two lovely souls, whom cruel fate has severed. Ha! they are here. I must propose it instantly. [Pg 62]
Enter Countess and Mrs. Haller.
Countess. Into the garden, my dear friend! Into the air!
Mrs. H. I am quite well. Do not alarm yourselves on my account.
Bar. Madam, pardon my intrusion; but to lose a moment may be fatal. He means to quit the country to-morrow. ”

“ All that I see and hear of you is inexplicable. 'Tis you; but these, alas! are not the features which once enchanted every female bosom, beamed gaiety through all society, and won you friends before your lips were opened! Why do you avert your face? Is the sight of a friend become hateful? ”

“ The birds' notes so often heard, still waken new ideas: the herds are led into the fields: the peasant bends his eye upon his plough. Every thing lives and moves; and in every creature's mind it seems as it were morning. ”

“ The innocents! they shall not be poisoned by the refinements of society. Rather let them hunt their daily sustenance upon some desert island with their bow and arrow; or creep, like torpid Hottentots, into a corner, and stare at each other. Better to do nothing than to do evil. ”

“ Often when, in excess of grief, I have despaired of every consolation, I have thought I should be easier if I might behold my husband once again, acknowledge my injustice to him, and take a gentle leave of him for ever. ”

“ To him nature has no beauty; life, no charm. For three years I have never seen him smile. What will be his fate at last? Nothing diverts him. Oh, if he would but attach himself to any living thing! Were it an animal—for something man must love. ”

“ My benefactress once came to my hut herself, some time before you fixed here. The poor animal, unused to see the form of elegance and beauty enter the door of penury, growled at her.—"I wonder you keep that surly, ugly animal, Mr. Tobias," said she; "you, who have hardly food enough for yourself."—"Ah, madam," I replied, "if I part with him, are you sure that any thing else will love me?"—She was pleased with my answer. ”

“ Stra. I thank you, Francis. I can only thank you. Yet share this consolation with me:—my sufferings are unmerited.
Fra. My poor master!
Stra. Have you forgotten what the old man said this morning? "There is another and a better world!" Oh, 'twas true. Then let us hope with fervency, and yet endure with patience!—What's here?
Enter Charlotte, from the Park gate.
Char. I presume, sir, you are the strange gentleman that drew my young master out of the water?— [The Stranger reads.] Or [To Francis.] are you he? [Francis makes a wry face.] Are the creatures both dumb? [Looks at them by turns.] ”

“ If the man would only converse a little, one might have an opportunity of pumping; but if one meets him in the lime walk, or by the river, it is nothing but—"Good morrow;"—and off he marches. Once or twice I have contrived to edge in a word—"Fine day."—"Yes."—"Taking a little exercise, I perceive."—"Yes:"—and off again like a shot. The devil take such close fellows, say I. And, like master like man; not a syllable do I know of that mumps his servant, except that his name is Francis. ”

“ But a frank reliance on a generous mind is the greatest sacrifice to be offered by true repentance. This sacrifice I will offer. [Hesitating.] Did you never hear—Pardon me—Did you never hear—Oh! how shocking is it to unmask a deception, which alone has recommended me to your regard! But it must be so.—Madam—Fie, Adelaide! does pride become you? Did you never hear of the Countess Waldbourg?
Countess. I think I did hear, at the neighbouring court, of such a creature. She plunged an honour [Pg 46] able husband into misery. She ran away with a villain. ”

“ They press the Children in their arms with speechless affection; then tear themselves away—gaze at each other—spread their arms, and rush into an embrace. The Children run, and cling round their Parents. ”