Poems

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.

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.

(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!

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