Love and Intrigue. Friedrich von Schiller
in – conclude the bargain for her ladyship, win the confidence of the prince, and make himself indispensable, to my cost. Now, to retain the prince in the meshes of my family, I have resolved that my Ferdinand shall marry Lady Milford. Is that clear to you?
WORM. Quite dazzling! Your excellency has at least convinced me that, compared with the president, the father is but a novice. Should the major prove as obedient a son as you show yourself a tender father, your demand may chance to be returned with a protest.
PRESIDENT. Fortunately I have never yet had to fear opposition to my will when once I have pronounced, "It shall be so!" But now, Worm, that brings us back to our former subject! I will propose Lady Milford to my son this very day. The face which he puts upon it shall either confirm your suspicions or entirely confute them.
WORM. Pardon me, my lord! The sullen face which he most assuredly will put upon it may be placed equally to the account of the bride you offer to him as of her from whom you wish to separate him. I would beg of you a more positive test! Propose to him some perfectly unexceptionable woman. Then, if he consents, let Secretary Worm break stones on the highway for the next three years.
PRESIDENT (biting his lips). The devil!
WORM. Such is the case, you may rest assured! The mother – stupidity itself – has, in her simplicity, betrayed all to me.
PRESIDENT (pacing the room, and trying to repress his rage). Good! this very morning, then!
WORM. Yet, let me entreat your excellency not to forget that the major – is my master's son —
PRESIDENT. No harm shall come to him, Worm.
WORM. And that my service in ridding you of an unwelcome daughter-in-law —
PRESIDENT. Should be rewarded by me helping you to a wife? That too, Worm!
WORM (bowing with delight). Eternally your lordship's slave. (Going.)
PRESIDENT (threatening him). As to what I have confided to you, Worm! If you dare but to whisper a syllable —
WORM (laughs). Then your excellency will no doubt expose my forgeries!
[Exit.
PRESIDENT. Yes, yes, you are safe enough! I hold you in the fetters of your own knavery, like a trout on the hook!
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT. Marshal Kalb —
PRESIDENT. The very man I wished to see. Introduce him.
[Exit SERVANT.
SCENE VI
MARSHAL KALB, in a rich but tasteless court-dress, with
Chamberlain's keys, two watches, sword, three-cornered
hat, and hair dressed a la Herisson. He bustles up to
the PRESIDENT, and diffuses a strong scent of musk through
the whole theatre – PRESIDENT.
MARSHAL. Ah! good morning, my dear baron! Quite delighted to see you again – pray forgive my not having paid my respects to you at an earlier hour – the most pressing business – the duke's bill of fare – invitation cards – arrangements for the sledge party to-day – ah! – besides it was necessary for me to be at the levee, to inform his highness of the state of the weather.
PRESIDENT. True, marshal! Such weighty concerns were not to be neglected!
MARSHAL. Then a rascally tailor, too, kept me waiting for him!
PRESIDENT. And yet ready to the moment?
MARSHAL. Nor is that all! One misfortune follows at the heels of the other to-day! Only hear me!
PRESIDENT (absent). Can it be possible?
MARSHAL. Just listen! Scarce had I quitted my carriage, when the horses became restive, and began to plunge and rear – only imagine! – splashed my breeches all over with mud! What was to be done? Fancy, my dear baron, just fancy yourself for a moment in my predicament! There I stood! the hour was late! a day's journey to return – yet to appear before his highness in this – good heavens! What did I bethink me of? I pretended to faint! They bundle me into my carriage! I drive home like mad – change my dress – hasten back – and only think! – in spite of all this I was the first person in the antechamber! What say you to that?
PRESIDENT. A most admirable impromptu of mortal wit – but tell me, Kalb, did you speak to the duke?
MARSHAL (importantly). Full twenty minutes and a half.
PRESIDENT. Indeed? Then doubtless you have important news to impart to me?
MARSHAL (seriously, after a pause of reflection). His highness wears a Merde d'Oye beaver to-day.
PRESIDENT. God bless me! – and yet, marshal, I have even greater news to tell you. Lady Milford will soon become my daughter-in-law. That, I think will be new to you?
MARSHAL. Is it possible! And is it already agreed upon?
PRESIDENT. It is settled, marshal – and you would oblige me by forthwith waiting upon her ladyship, and preparing her to receive Ferdinand's visit. You have full liberty, also, to circulate the news of my son's approaching nuptials.
MARSHAL. My dear friend! With consummate pleasure! What can I desire more? I fly to the baroness this moment. Adieu! (Embracing him.) In less than three-quarters of an hour it shall be known throughout the town. [Skips off.
PRESIDENT (smiling contemptuously). How can people say that such creatures are of no use in the world? Now, then, Master Ferdinand must either consent or give the whole town the lie. (Rings – WORM enters.) Send my son hither. (WORM retires; the PRESIDENT walks up and down, full of thought.)
SCENE VII
PRESIDENT – FERDINAND.
FERDINAND. In obedience to your commands, sir —
PRESIDENT. Ay, if I desire the presence of my son, I must command it – Ferdinand, I have observed you for some time past, and find no longer that open vivacity of youth which once so delighted me. An unusual sorrow broods upon your features; you shun your father; you shun society. For shame, Ferdinand! At your age a thousand irregularities are easier forgiven than one instant of idle melancholy. Leave this to me, my son! Leave the care of your future happiness to my direction, and study only to co-operate with my designs – come, Ferdinand, embrace me!
FERDINAND. You are most gracious to-day, father!
PRESIDENT. "To-day," you rogue? and your "to-day" with such a vinegar look? (Seriously.) Ferdinand! For whose sake have I trod that dangerous path which leads to the affections of the prince? For whose sake have I forever destroyed my peace with Heaven and my conscience? Hear me, Ferdinand – I am speaking to my son. For whom have I paved the way by the removal of my predecessor? a deed which the more deeply gores my inward feelings the more carefully I conceal the dagger from the world! Tell me, Ferdinand, for whose sake have I done all this?
FERDINAND (recoiling with horror). Surely not for mine, father, not for mine? Surely not on me can fall the bloody reflection of this murder? By my Almighty Maker, it were better never to have been born than to be the pretext for such a crime!
PRESIDENT. What sayest thou? How? But I will attribute these strange notions to thy romantic brain, Ferdinand; let me not lose my temper – ungrateful boy! Thus dost thou repay me for my sleepless nights? Thus for my restless anxiety to promote thy good? Thus for the never-dying scorpion of my conscience? Upon me must fall the burden of responsibility; upon me the curse, the thunderbolt of the Judge. Thou receivest thy fortune from another's hand – the crime is not attached to the inheritance.
FERDINAND (extending his right hand towards heaven). Here I solemnly abjure an inheritance which must ever remind me of a parent's guilt!
PRESIDENT. Hear me, sirrah! and do not incense me! Were you left to your own direction you would crawl through life in the dust.
FERDINAND. Oh! better, father, far, far better, than to crawl about a throne!
PRESIDENT