Scene II A Room in the Castle
BARON sitting upon a sopha.—FREDERICK standing near him, with one hand pressed between his—the Baron rises.
BARON.
Been in battle too!—I am glad to hear it. You have known hard services, but now they are over, and joy and happiness will succeed.—The reproach of your birth shall be removed, for I will acknowledge you my son, and heir to my estate.
FREDERICK.
And my mother——
BARON.
She shall live in peace and affluence. Do you think I would leave your mother unprovided, unprotected? No! About a mile from this castle I have an estate called Weldendorf—there she shall live, and call her own whatever it produces. There she shall reign, and be sole mistress of the little paradise. There her past sufferings shall be changed to peace and tranquility. On a summer’s morning, we, my son, will ride to visit her; pass a day, a week with her; and in this social intercourse time will glide pleasantly.
FREDERICK.
And, pray, my Lord—under what name is my mother to live then?
BARON.
[confused]. How?
FREDERICK.
In what capacity?—As your domestic—or as——
BARON.
That we will settle afterwards.
FREDERICK.
Will you allow me, Sir, to leave the room a little while, that you may have leisure to consider now?
BARON.
I do not know how to explain myself in respect to your mother more than I have done already.
FREDERICK.
My fate, whatever it may be, shall never part me from her. This is my firm resolution, upon which I call Heaven to witness! My Lord, it must be Frederick of Wildenhaim, and Agatha of Wildenhaim—or Agatha Friburg, and Frederick Friburg. [Exit.
BARON.
Young man! Frederick!—[calling after him.] Hasty indeed! would make conditions with his father. No, no, that must not be. I just now thought how well I had arranged my plans—had relieved my heart of every burden, when, a second time, he throws a mountain upon it. Stop, friend conscience, why do you take his part?—For twenty years thus you have used me, and been my torture.
Enter Mr. ANHALT.
Ah! Anhalt, I am glad you are come. My conscience and myself are at variance.
MR. ANHALT.
Your conscience is in the right.
BARON.
You don’t know yet what the quarrel is.
MR. ANHALT.
Conscience is always right—because it never speaks unless it is so.
BARON.
Ay, a man of your order can more easily attend to its whispers, than an old warrior. The sound of cannon has made him hard of hearing.—I have found my son again, Mr. Anhalt, a fine, brave young man—I mean to make him my heir—Am I in the right?
MR. ANHALT.
Perfectly.
BARON.
And his mother shall live in happiness—My estate, Weldendorf, shall be hers—I’ll give it to her, and she shall make it her residence. Don’t I do right?
MR. ANHALT.
No.
BARON.
[surprized]. No? And what else should I do?
MR. ANHALT.
[forcibly]. Marry her.
BARON.
[starting]. I marry her!
MR. ANHALT.
Baron Wildenhaim is a man who will not act inconsistently.—As this is my opinion, I expect your reasons, if you do not.
BARON.
Would you have me marry a beggar?
MR. ANHALT.
[after a pause]. Is that your only objection?
BARON.
[confused]. I have more—many more.
MR. ANHALT.
May I beg to know them likewise?
BARON.
My birth!
MR. ANHALT.
Go on.
BARON.
My relations would despise me.
MR. ANHALT.
Go on.
BARON.
[in anger]. ’Sdeath! are not these reasons enough?
—I know no other.
MR. ANHALT.
Now, then, it is my turn to state mine for the advice I have given you. But first, I must presume to ask a few questions.—Did Agatha, through artful insinuation, gain your affection? or did she give you cause to suppose her inconstant?
BARON.
Neither—but for me, she was always virtuous and good.
MR. ANHALT.
Did it cost you trouble and earnest entreaty to make her otherwise?
BARON.
[angrily]. Yes.
MR. ANHALT.
You pledged your honour?
BARON.
[confused]. Yes.
MR. ANHALT.
Called God to witness?
BARON.
[more confused]. Yes.
MR. ANHALT.
The witness you called at that time was the Being who sees you now. What you gave in pledge was your honour, which you must redeem. Therefore thank Heaven that it is in your power to redeem it. By marrying Agatha the ransom’s made: and she brings a dower greater than any princess can bestow—peace to your conscience. If you then esteem the value of this portion, you will not hesitate a moment to exclaim,—Friends, wish me joy, I will marry Agatha.
[Baron, in great agitation, walks backwards and forwards, then takes Anhalt by the hand.]
BARON.
“Friend, wish me joy—I will marry Agatha.”
MR. ANHALT.
I do wish you joy.
BARON.
Where is she?
MR. ANHALT.
In the castle—in my apartments here—I conducted her through the garden, to avoid curiosity.
BARON.
Well, then, this is the wedding-day. This very evening you shall give us your blessing.
MR. ANHALT.
Not so soon, not so private. The whole village was witness of Agatha’s shame—the whole village must be witness of Agatha’s re-established honour. Do you consent to this?
BARON.
I do.
MR. ANHALT.
Now the quarrel is decided. Now is your conscience quiet?
BARON.
As quiet as an infant’s. I only wish the first interview was over.
MR. ANHALT.
Compose yourself. Agatha’s heart is to be your judge.
Enter AMELIA.
BARON.
Amelia, you have a brother.
AMELIA.
I have just heard so, my Lord; and rejoice to find the news confirmed by you.
BARON.
I know, my dear Amelia, I can repay you for the loss of Count Cassel; but what return can I make to you for the loss of half your fortune?
AMELIA.
My brother’s love will be ample recompense.
BARON.
I will reward you better. Mr. Anhalt, the battle I have just fought, I owe to myself: the victory I gained, I owe to you. A man of your principles, at once a teacher and an example of virtue, exalts his rank in life to a level with the noblest family—and I shall be proud to receive you as my son.
MR. ANHALT.
[falling on his knees, and taking the Baron’s hand]. My Lord, you overwhelm me with confusion, as well as with joy.
BARON.
My obligations to you are infinite—Amelia shall pay the debt. [Gives her to him.]
AMELIA.
Oh, my dear father! [embracing the Baron] what blessings have you bestowed on me in one day. [to Anhalt.] I will be your scholar still, and use more diligence than ever to please my master.
MR. ANHALT.
His present happiness admits of no addition.
BARON.
Nor does mine—And yet there is another task to perform that will require more fortitude, more courage, than this has done! A trial that!—[bursts into tears]—I cannot prevent them—Let me—let me—A few minutes will bring me to myself—Where is Agatha?
MR. ANHALT.
I will go, and fetch her. [Exit Anhalt at an upper entrance.]
BARON.
Stop! Let me first recover a little. [Walks up and down, sighing bitterly—looks at the door through which Anhalt left the room.] That door she will come from—That was once the dressing-room of my mother—From that door I have seen her come many times—have been delighted with her lovely smiles—How shall I now behold her altered looks! Frederick must be my mediator.—Where is he? Where is my son?—Now I am ready—my heart is prepared to receive her—Haste! haste! Bring her in.
[He looks stedfastly at the door—Anhalt leads on Agatha—The Baron runs and clasps her in his arms—Supported by him, she sinks on a chair which Amelia places in the middle of the stage—The Baron kneels by her side, holding her hand.]
BARON.
Agatha, Agatha, do you know this voice?
AGATHA.
Wildenhaim.
BARON.
Can you forgive me?
AGATHA.
I forgive you. [embracing him].
FREDERICK.
[as he enters]. I hear the voice of my mother!—Ha! mother! father!
[Frederick throws himself on his knees by the other side of his mother—She clasps him in her arms.—Amelia is placed on the side of her father attentively viewing Agatha—Anhalt stands on the side of Frederick with his hands gratefully raised to Heaven.]——The curtain slowly drops.
END