I know you, wretched ghosts! wandering stars amid the angelic hosts!
He goes forward into the darkness.
George. Father! go not into that fearful gloom! Father! in the name of Jesus Christ—I implore—I conjure thee—father!
The Man (turning toward his son). Whom do you see below? Speak, and tell me truly, George!
George. The prisoner—he is thyself, my father!
He is white as snow—gagged—chained—they drag him on—they torture thee, my father!
I hear thy gasping breath—thy groans—thy sobs! (He falls upon his knees.) Forgive me, father! My mother shines through the dark—and commands me to....
He falls back in a fainting fit.
The Man (catching the falling boy in his arms). This alone was wanting! Ha! my own, my only child has led me to the brink of hell!
Mary—inexorable spirit! God!!
And thou, second Mary, to whom I have so often prayed!
Here then is the beginning of eternal darkness, eternal torture!…
Back! back into life! one day of glory is at least still left me! First must I combat with my fellow men—and then for my eternal struggle!
Chorus of Spirits (dying away in the distance). Because thou hast loved nothing, revered nothing, save thyself and thine own thoughts—thou art, damned to all eternity!
A large hall in the castle of the Holy Trinity; arms and armor hang upon the walls, with various Gothic ornaments. The Man; women, children, some old men, and nobles are kneeling at his feet. The Godfather stands in the centre of the hall, and crowds of men are in the background.
The Man. No, no. By my son—by the memory of my wife—never! never!
Voices of Women. Have mercy upon us! Hunger gnaws our bowels; our children die of famine; fear is upon us day and night; have pity upon us!
Voices of Men. It still is time! Listen to the herald—dismiss not the envoy!
Godfather. I regard not your reproaches, Count Henry, for my whole life has been that of a good citizen.
If I have assumed the office of ambassador, which I am at this moment fulfilling, it is because I understand the age in which we live, and estimate our times aright.
Pancratius is, if I may so express myself, the representative of the people....
The Man. Out of my sight, old man!—(Aside to Jacob.) Bring a detachment of soldiers hither!
Exit Jacob.
The women rise from their knees weeping and sobbing, and the men draw back a few paces.
A Baron.—We are all lost, and through you alone, Count Henry!
Second Baron. We renounce all further obedience.
A Prince. Let us arrange for ourselves the terms of the surrender of this castle with the worthy envoy!
Godfather. The great man who sent me here secures life to you all, if you will enter into a league with him and acknowledge the justice of the struggle of the century.
Many Voices. We acknowledge it.
The Man. You have sworn to me, and I have sworn to you, to die upon these walls; I intend to keep my oath, and you shall be true to yours. You are all to die with me!
Ha! can you indeed still wish to live?
Ha! ask the spirits of your fathers why, when living, they were guilty of such continuous oppression, and why they ruled with so much cruelty!—(To a Count.) Why have you, count, oppressed your serfs?—(To another.) Why have you passed your youth in cards and dice, and your life in the land of the stranger?—(To another.) Why have you crept before the great, and scorned the lowly?-(To one of the women.) Why did you not bring up your sons to defend you? As knights and soldiers, they might then have served you now; but you have preferred dealings with Jews and lawyers: call upon them, then, for life and safety.—(He rises and extends his arms toward them.) Why hasten ye thus to shame? why wrap your last hours in shrouds of infamy?
On with me, ye knights and nobles! On, where bayonets glitter, swift balls whistle!
Oh seek not the accursed gallows prepared for you by the New Men; believe me, the masked and silent hangman stands waiting to throw the rope of shame around your high-born throats!
A Voice. He speaks the truth—to our bayonets!
Another Voice. We die of hunger; there is no more food!
Voices of Women. Our children! Your children! Mercy!
Godfather. I promise you safety—safety of life and limb....
The Man (approaching the Godfather, and seizing him y the shoulder). Sacred person of the herald, go! Go, and hide thy gray hairs in the tents of Jews and low mechanics, that I may not dye them in thine own base blood!
Jacob enters with a division of armed men.
Take aim at this brow, furrowed with the folds of idle learning! Aim at this liberty cap, which trembles on the brainless head before every breath from the lips of a man!
The Godfather escapes.
All cry, with one breath: Bind Count Henry! Deliver him up to Pancratius!
The Man. Wait but a single moment, lords! (He goes from one soldier to another.) Do you remember when we climbed a mountain's rocky slope, a savage wild beast closely tracked our steps, and when you, frightened, fell into a yawning chasm, I rescued you, and saved your life? You were most grateful then. Have you forgotten it?—Jerome, we once were cast away upon the Danube's craggy shore; we braved the waves, and saved our lives; we were bold swimmers, and we helped each other well!—Christophe, Hieronymus, you sailed with me upon the wild Black Sea; we were young sailors then!—(To others.) When the fire destroyed your homes, who built your cottages anew?—(To others.) You fled to me from cruel lords, and I redressed your wrongs.—(Addressing himself to the men generally.) Reflect, and choose!… Speak! will you arm with me to battle for our rights, or will you leave me here to die alone—with haughty smiles upon my stiffening lips, because, among so many men, I found no single man?
The Men. Long live Count Henry! we desert him not—vivat!
The Man. Let the remaining meat and brandy be shared among them; then upon the walls!
Soldiers. Meat and brandy, and then upon the walls!
The Man. Go with them, Jacob, and in an hour be ready to renew the fight!
Jacob. So help me God the Lord.
Women. We curse thee, Count Henry, in the name of our innocent children!
Other Voices. We, for our fathers!
Other Voices. We, for our wives!
The Man. And I breathe curses on all craven souls!
The wall of the fortress of the Holy Trinity. Troops are lying scattered about. Broken rocks and stones strew the ground, mingled with pikes and guns; soldiers are running to and fro; the Man leans against a bulwark, and Jacob stands beside him.
The Man (putting his sword into its sheath). There can be no greater pleasure than to play at danger when we always win; and when the time comes to lose, one cast of the die, and all is over!
Jacob. Our last broadside has driven them back for the moment, but I see them below there,