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COMIC TRAGEDIES
Jo and Meg
[Illustration: JO AND MEG.
COPIES OF EARLY DAGUERREOTYPES.
"It was at this period of her life that she was violently attacked by a
mania for the stage, and writing and enacting dramas. Her older sister,
Anna, had the same taste, and assisted her in carrying out all her
plans."
_Mrs. Cheney's Life of Louisa M. Alcott._]
COMIC TRAGEDIES
WRITTEN BY "JO" AND "MEG"
AND ACTED BY
THE "LITTLE WOMEN"
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1893
_Copyright, 1893_,
By Anna B. Pratt.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
Page
A Foreword, by Meg . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Norna; or, The Witch's Curse . . . . . . . . 17
The Captive of Castile; or, The Moorish
Maiden's Vow . . . . . . . . . . . 97
The Greek Slave . . . . . . . . . . 149
Ion . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
Bianca: an Operatic Tragedy . . . . . . . 261
The Unloved Wife; or, Woman's Faith . . . . . 279
A FOREWORD BY MEG.
In the good old times, when "Little Women" worked and played together,
the big garret was the scene of many dramatic revels. After a long day
of teaching, sewing, and "helping mother," the greatest delight of the
girls was to transform themselves into queens, knights, and cavaliers of
high degree, and ascend into a world of fancy and romance. Cinderella's
godmother waved her wand, and the dismal room became a fairy-land.
Flowers bloomed, forests arose, music sounded, and lovers exchanged
their vows by moonlight. Nothing was too ambitious to attempt; armor,
gondolas, harps, towers, and palaces grew as if by magic, and wonderful
scenes of valor and devotion were enacted before admiring audiences.
Jo, of course, played the villains, ghosts, bandits, and disdainful
queens; for her tragedy-loving soul delighted in the lurid parts, and no
drama was perfect in her eyes without a touch of the demonic or
supernatural. Meg loved the sentimental roles, the tender maiden with
the airy robes and flowing locks, who made impossible sacrifices for
ideal lovers, or the cavalier, singing soft serenades and performing
lofty acts of gallantry and prowess. Amy was the fairy sprite, while
Beth enacted the page or messenger when the scene required their aid.
But the most surprising part of the performance was the length of the
cast and the size of the company; for Jo and Meg usually acted the whole
play, each often assuming five or six characters, and with rapid change
of dress becoming, in one scene, a witch, a soldier, a beauteous lady,
and a haughty noble. This peculiar arrangement accounts for many queer
devices, and the somewhat singular fact that each scene offers but two
actors, who vanish and reappear at most inopportune moments, and in a
great variety of costume. Long speeches were introduced to allow a
ruffian to become a priest, or a lovely damsel to disguise herself in
the garb of a sorceress; while great skill was required to preserve the
illusion, and astonish the audience by these wonderful transformations.
The young amateur of to-day, who can easily call to her aid all the arts
of the costumer and scene-maker, will find it hard to understand the
difficulties of this little company; for not only did they compose
their plays, but they were also their own carpenters, scene-painters,
property-men, dress-makers, and managers. In place of a well-appointed
stage, with the brilliant lights and inspiring accessories of a mimic
theatre, the "Little Women" had a gloomy garret or empty barn, and were
obliged to exercise all their ingenuity to present the scenes of their
ambitious dramas.
But it is surprising what fine effects can be produced with old sheets,
bright draperies, and a judicious arrangement of lights, garlands, and
picturesque properties; and Jo's dramatic taste made her an admirable
stage-manager. Meg was especially handy with saw and hammer, and acted
as stage-carpenter,--building balconies, thrones, boats, and towers
after peculiar designs of her own. Bureaus, tables, and chairs, piled
aloft and arched with dark shawls, made dungeon walls and witch's cave,
or formed a background for haunted forest and lonely glen. Screens of
white cloth furnished canvas on which little Amy's skilful hand depicted
palace halls, or romantic scene for lovers' tryst; and Beth's deft
fingers were most apt in constructing properties for stage adornment,
and transforming the frailest material into dazzling raiment. For the
costumes were a serious consideration. No money could be spared from the
slender purse to supply the wardrobes of these aspiring actors, and many
were the devices to clothe the little company.
Thus a robe in one scene became a cloak in the next, and the drapery of
a couch in the third; while a bit of lace served as mantle, veil, or
turban, as best suited the turn of the play. Hats covered with old
velvet, and adorned with feathers plucked from the duster, made most
effective headgear for gay cavalier or tragic villain. From colored
cotton were manufactured fine Greek tunics and flowing trains; and
remarkable court costumes were evolved from an old sofa-covering, which
had seen better days, and boasted a little gold thread and embroidery.
Stars of tin, sewed upon dark cambric, made a suit of shining armor.
Sandals were cut from old boots. Strips of wood and silver paper were
fashioned into daggers, swords, and spears, while from cardboard were
created helmets, harps, guitars, and antique lamps, that were considered
masterpieces of stage art.
Everything available was pressed into service; colored paper, odds and
ends of ribbon, even tin cans and their bright wrappings were treasures
to the young actors, and all reappeared as splendid properties.
At first a store of red curtains, some faded brocades, and ancient
shawls comprised the stage wardrobe; but as the fame of the performances
spread abroad, contributions were made to the little stock, and the
girls became the proud possessors of a velvet robe, a plumed hat adorned
with silver, long yellow boots, and a quantity of mock pearls and tinsel
ornaments.
Such wealth determined them to write a play which should surpass all
former efforts, give Jo a chance to stalk haughtily upon the stage in
the magnificent boots, and Meg to appear in gorgeous train and diadem of
jewels.
"The Witch's Curse" was the result, and it was produced with astounding
effect, quite paralyzing the audience by its splendid gloom. Jo called
it the "lurid drama," and always considered it her masterpiece. But it
cost hours of thought and labor; for to construct a dungeon, a haunted
chamber, a cavern, and a lonely forest taxed to the uttermost the
ingenuity of the actors. To introduce into one short scene a bandit, two
cavaliers, a witch, and a fairy spirit--all enacted by two
people--required some skill, and lightning change of costume. To call
up the ghostly visions and mysterious voices which should appall the
guilty Count Rodolpho, was a task of no small difficulty. But inspired
by the desire to outshine themselves, the children accomplished a play
full of revenge, jealousy, murder, and sorcery, of all which indeed they
knew nothing but the name.
Hitherto their dramas had been of the most sentimental description,
given to the portrayal of woman's devotion, filial affection, heroism,
and self-sacrifice. Indeed, these "Comic Tragedies" with their highflown
romance and fantastic ideas of love and honor, are most characteristic
of the young girls whose lives were singularly free from the experiences
of many maidens of their age.
Of the world they knew nothing; lovers were ideal beings, clothed with
all the beauty of their innocent imaginations. Love was a blissful
dream; constancy, truth, courage, and virtue quite every-day affairs of
life. Their few novels furnished the romantic element; the favorite
fairy-tales gave them material for the supernatural; and their strong
dramatic taste enabled them to infuse both fire and pathos into their
absurd situations.
Jo revelled in catastrophe, and the darker scenes were her delight; but
she usually required Meg to "do the love-part," which she considered
quite beneath her pen. Thus their productions were a queer mixture of
sentiment and adventure, with entire disregard of such matters as
grammar, history, and geography,--all of which were deemed of no
importance by these aspiring dramatists.
From the little stage library, still extant, the following plays have
been selected as fair examples of the work of these children of sixteen
and seventeen. With some slight changes and omissions, they remain as
written more than forty years ago by Meg and Jo, so dear to the hearts
of many other "Little Women."
Concord, Mass., 1893.
[Illustration: THE THEATRE OF 1848.
"Those Concord days were the happiest of my life. Plays in the barn were
a favorite amusement."
_L. M. Alcott._]
NORNA; OR, THE WITCH'S CURSE.
CHARACTERS.
Count Rodolpho . . . . . _A Haughty Noble._
Count Louis . . . . . _Lover of Leonore._
Adrian . . . . . . . _The Black Mask._
Hugo . . . . . . . _A Bandit._
Gaspard . . . . . . _Captain of the Guard._
Angelo . . . . . . _A Page._
Theresa . . . . . . _Wife to Rodolpho._
Leonore . . . . . . _In love with Louis._
Norna . . . . . . _A Witch._
COMIC TRAGEDIES.
NORNA; OR, THE WITCH'S CURSE.
SCENE FIRST.
[_A room in the castle of_ Rodolpho. Theresa _discovered alone,
and in tears._]
Theresa. I cannot pray; my aching heart finds rest alone in tears. Ah,
what a wretched fate is mine! Forced by a father's will to wed a
stranger ere I learned to love, one short year hath taught me what a
bitter thing it is to wear a chain that binds me unto one who hath
proved himself both jealous and unkind. The fair hopes I once cherished
are now gone, and here a captive in my splendid home I dwell forsaken,
sorrowing and alone [_weeps_]. [_Three taps upon the wall are heard._]
Ha, my brother's signal! What can bring him hither at this hour? Louis,
is it thou? Enter; "all's well."
[_Enter_ Count Louis _through a secret panel in the wall,
hidden by a curtain. He embraces_ Theresa.
Theresa. Ah, Louis, what hath chanced? Why art thou here? Some danger
must have brought thee; tell me, dear brother. Let me serve thee.
Louis. Sister dearest, thy kindly offered aid is useless now. Thou canst
not help me; and I must add another sorrow to the many that are thine. I
came to say farewell, Theresa.
Theresa. Farewell! Oh, brother, do not leave me! Thy love is all now
left to cheer my lonely life. Wherefore must thou go? Tell me, I beseech
thee!
Louis. Forgive me if I grieve thee. I will tell thee all. Thy husband
hates me, for I charged him with neglect and cruelty to thee; and he
hath vowed revenge for my bold words. He hath whispered false tales to
the king, he hath blighted all my hopes of rank and honor. I am banished
from the land, and must leave thee and Leonore, and wander forth an
outcast and alone. But--let him beware!--I shall return to take a deep
revenge for thy wrongs and my own. Nay, sister, grieve not thus. I have
sworn to free thee from his power, and I will keep my vow. Hope on and
bear a little longer, dear Theresa, and ere long I will bear thee to a
happy home [_noise is heard without_]. Ha! what is that? Who comes?
Theresa. 'Tis my lord returning from the court. Fly, Louis, fly! Thou
art lost if he discover thee. Heaven bless and watch above thee.
Remember poor Theresa, and farewell.
Louis. One last word of Leonore. I have never told my love, yet she hath
smiled on me, and I should have won her hand. Ah, tell her this, and bid
her to be true to him who in his exile will hope on, and yet return to
claim the heart he hath loved so faithfully. Farewell, my sister.
Despair not,--I shall return.
[_Exit_ Louis _through the secret panel; drops his dagger._
Theresa. Thank Heaven, he is safe!--but oh, my husband, this last deed
of thine is hard to bear. Poor Louis, parted from Leonore, his fair
hopes blighted, all by thy cruel hand. Ah, he comes! I must be calm.
[_Enter_ Rodolpho.
Rod. What, weeping still? Hast thou no welcome for thy lord save tears
and sighs? I'll send thee to a convent if thou art not more gay!
Theresa. I'll gladly go, my lord. I am weary of the world. Its gayeties
but make my heart more sad.
Rod. Nay, then I will take thee to the court, and there thou _must_ be
gay. But I am weary; bring me wine, and smile upon me as thou used to
do. Dost hear me? Weep no more. [_Seats himself._ Theresa _brings wine
and stands beside him. Suddenly he sees the dagger dropped by_ Louis.]
Ha! what is that? 'Tis none of mine. How came it hither? Answer, I
command thee!
Theresa. I cannot. I must not, dare not tell thee.
Rod. Darest thou refuse to answer? Speak! Who hath dared to venture
hither? Is it thy brother? As thou lovest life, I bid thee speak.
Theresa. I am innocent, and will not betray the only one now left me on
the earth to love. Oh, pardon me, my lord; I will obey in all but this.
Rod. Thou _shalt_ obey. I'll take thy life but I will know. Thy brother
must be near,--this dagger was not here an hour ago. Thy terror hath
betrayed him. I leave thee now to bid them search the castle. But if I
find him not, I shall return; and if thou wilt not then confess, I'll
find a way to make thee. Remember, I have vowed,--thy secret or thy
life!
[_Exit_ Rodolpho.
Theresa. My life I freely yield thee, but my secret--never. Oh, Louis, I
will gladly die to save thee. Life hath no joy for me; and in the grave
this poor heart may forget the bitter sorrows it is burdened with
[_sinks down weeping_].
[_Enter_ Rodolpho.
Rod. The search is vain. He hath escaped. Theresa, rise, and answer me.
To whom belonged the dagger I have found? Thy tears avail not; I will be
obeyed. Kneel not to me, I will not pardon. Answer, or I swear I'll make
thee dumb forever.
Theresa. No, no! I will not betray. Oh, husband, spare me! Let not the
hand that led me to the altar be stained with blood I would so gladly
shed for thee. I cannot answer thee.
Rod. [_striking her_]. Then die: thy constancy is useless. I will find
thy brother and take a fearful vengeance yet.
Theresa. I am faithful to the last. Husband, I forgive thee.
[Theresa _dies._
Rod. 'Tis done, and I am rid of her forever; but 'tis an ugly deed. Poor
fool, there was a time when I could pity thee, but thou hast stood
'twixt me and Lady Leonore, and now I am free. I must conceal the form,
and none shall ever know the crime.
[_Exit_ Rodolpho.
[_The panel opens and_ Norna _enters._]
Norna. Heaven shield us! What is this? His cruel hand hath done the
deed, and I am powerless to save. Poor, murdered lady, I had hoped to
spare thee this, and lead thee to a happier home. Perchance, 'tis better
so. The dead find rest, and thy sad heart can ache no more. Rest to thy
soul, sweet lady. But for _thee_, thou cruel villain, I have in store a
deep revenge for all thy sinful deeds. If there be power in spell or
charm, I'll conjure fearful dreams upon thy head. I'll follow thee
wherever thou mayst go, and haunt thy sleep with evil visions. I'll
whisper strange words that shall appall thee; dark phantoms shall rise
up before thee, and wild voices ringing in thine ear shall tell thee of
thy sins. By all these will I make life like a hideous dream, and death
more fearful still. Like a vengeful ghost I will haunt thee to thy
grave, and so revenge thy wrongs, poor, murdered lady. Beware, Rodolpho!
Old Norna's curse is on thee.
[_She bears away_ Theresa's _body through the secret door, and
vanishes._
CURTAIN.
NOTE TO SCENE SECOND.
The mysterious cave was formed of old furniture, covered with dark
draperies, an opening being left at the back wherein the spirits called
up by Norna might appear. A kitchen kettle filled with steaming water
made an effective caldron over which the sorceress should murmur her
incantations; flaming pine-knots cast a lurid glare over the scene; and
large boughs, artfully arranged about the stage, gave it the appearance
of a "gloomy wood."
When Louis "retires within," he at once arrays himself in the white
robes of the vision, and awaits the witch's call to rise behind the
aperture in true dramatic style. He vanishes, quickly resumes his own
attire, while Norna continues to weave her spells, till she sees he is
ready to appear once more as the disguised Count Louis.
SCENE SECOND.
[_A wood._ Norna's _cave among the rocks._ _Enter_ Louis
_masked._]
Louis. Yes; 'tis the spot. How dark and still! She is not here. Ho,
Norna, mighty sorceress! I seek thy aid.
Norna [_rising from the cave_]. I am here.
Louis. I seek thee, Norna, to learn tidings of one most dear to me. Dost
thou know aught of Count Rodolpho's wife? A strange tale hath reached me
that not many nights ago she disappeared, and none know whither she hath
gone. Oh, tell me, is this true?
Norna. It is most true.
Louis. And canst thou tell me whither she hath gone? I will reward thee
well.
Norna. I can. She lies within her tomb, in the chapel of the castle.
Louis. Dead!--it cannot be! They told me she had fled away with some
young lord who had won her love. Was it not true?
Norna. It is false as the villain's heart who framed the tale. _I_ bore
the murdered lady to her tomb, and laid her there.
Louis. Murdered? How? When? By whom? Oh, tell me I beseech thee!
Norna. Her husband's cruel hand took the life he had made a burden. I
heard him swear it ere he dealt the blow.
Louis. Wherefore did he kill her? Oh, answer quickly or I shall go mad
with grief and hate.
_Norna._ I can tell thee little. From my hiding-place I heard her vow
never to confess whose dagger had been found in her apartment, and her
jealous lord, in his wild anger, murdered her.
Louis. 'Twas mine. Would it had been sheathed in mine own breast ere it
had caused so dark a deed! Ah, Theresa, why did I leave thee to a fate
like this?
Norna. Young man, grieve not; it is too late to save, but there is left
to thee a better thing than grief.
Louis. Oh, what?
Norna. Revenge!
Louis. Thou art right. I'll weep no more. Give me thine aid, O mighty
wizard, and I will serve thee well.
Norna. Who art thou? The poor lady's lover?
Louis. Ah, no; far nearer and far deeper was the love I bore her, for I
am her brother.
Norna. Ha, that's well! Thou wilt join me, for I have made a vow to rest
not till that proud, sinful lord hath well atoned for this deep crime.
Spirits shall haunt him, and the darkest phantoms that my art can raise
shall scare his soul. Wilt thou join me in my work?
Louis. I will,--but stay! thou hast spoken of spirits. Dread sorceress,
is it in thy power to call them up?
Norna. It is. Wilt see my skill. Stand back while I call up a phantom
which thou canst not doubt.
[Louis _retires within the cave._ Norna _weaves a spell above
her caldron._
Norna. O spirit, from thy quiet tomb,
I bid thee hither through the gloom,
In winding-sheet, with bloody brow,
Rise up and hear our solemn vow.
I bid thee, with my magic power,
Tell the dark secret of that hour
When cruel hands, with blood and strife,
Closed the sad dream of thy young life.
Hither--appear before our eyes.
Pale spirit, I command thee _rise_.
[_Spirit of_ Theresa _rises._
Shadowy spirit, I charge thee well,
By my mystic art's most potent spell,
To haunt throughout his sinful life,
The mortal who once called thee wife.
At midnight hour glide round his bed,
And lay thy pale hand on his head.
Whisper wild words in his sleeping ear,
And chill his heart with a deadly fear.
Rise at his side in his gayest hour,
And his guilty soul shall feel thy power.
Stand thou before him in day and night,
And cast o'er his life a darksome blight;
For with all his power and sin and pride,
He shall ne'er forget his murdered bride.
Pale, shadowy form, wilt thou obey?
[_The spirit bows its head._
To thy ghostly work away--away!
[_The spirit vanishes._
The spell is o'er, the vow is won,
And, sinful heart, _thy_ curse begun.
[_Re-enter_ Louis.
Louis. 'Tis enough! I own thy power, and by the spirit of my murdered
sister I have looked upon, I swear to aid thee in thy dark work.
Norna. 'Tis well; and I will use my power to guard thee from the danger
that surrounds thee. And now, farewell. Remember,--thou hast sworn.
[_Exit_ Louis.
CURTAIN.
SCENE THIRD.
[_Another part of the wood.
Enter_ Rodolpho.]
Rod. They told me that old Norna's cave was 'mong these rocks, and yet I
find it not. By her I hope to learn where young Count Louis is
concealed. Once in my power, he shall not escape to whisper tales of
evil deeds against me. Stay! some one comes. I'll ask my way.
[_Enter_ Louis _masked._
Ho, stand, good sir. Canst guide me to the cell of Norna, the old
sorceress?
Louis. It were little use to tell thee; thou wouldst only win a deeper
curse than that she hath already laid upon thee.
Rod. Hold! who art thou that dare to speak thus to Count Rodolpho?
Louis. That thou canst never know; but this I tell thee: I am thy
deadliest foe, and, aided by the wizard Norna, seek to work thee evil,
and bring down upon thy head the fearful doom thy sin deserves. Wouldst
thou know more,--then seek the witch, and learn the hate she bears thee.
Rod. Fool! thinkst thou I fear thee or thy enchantments? Draw, and
defend thyself! Thou shalt pay dearly for thine insolence to me!
[_Draws his sword._
Louis. I will not stain my weapon with a murderer's blood. I leave thee
to the fate that gathers round thee.
[_Exit_ Louis.
Rod. "Murderer," said he. I am betrayed,--yet no one saw the deed. Yet,
stay! perchance 'twas he who bore Theresa away. He has escaped me, and
will spread the tale. Nay, why should I fear? Courage! One blow, and I
am safe! [_Rushes forward. Spirit of_ Theresa _rises._] What's
that?--her deathlike face,--the wound my hand hath made! Help! help!
help!
[_Rushes out. The spirit vanishes._
CURTAIN.
SCENE FOURTH.
[_Room in the castle of_ Rodolpho.
Rodolpho _alone._]
Rod. I see no way save that. Were young Count Louis dead she would
forget the love that had just begun, and by sweet words and gifts I may
yet win her. The young lord must die [_a groan behind the curtain_]. Ha!
what is that? 'Tis nothing; fie upon my fear! I'll banish all
remembrance of the fearful shape my fancy conjured up within the forest.
I'll not do the deed myself,--I have had enough of blood. Hugo the
bandit: he is just the man,--bold, sure of hand, and secret. I will
bribe him well, and when the deed is done, find means to rid me of him
lest he should play me false. I saw him in the courtyard as I entered.
Perchance he is not yet gone. Ho, without there! Bid Hugo here if he be
within the castle.--He is a rough knave, but gold will make all sure.
[_Enter_ Hugo.
Hugo. What would my lord with me?
Rod. I ask a favor of thee. Nay, never fear, I'll pay thee well. Wouldst
earn a few gold pieces?
Hugo. Ay, my lord, most gladly would I.
Rod. Nay, sit, good Hugo. Here is wine; drink, and refresh thyself.
Hugo. Thanks, my lord. How can I serve you?
[Rodolpho _gives wine,_ Hugo _sits and drinks._]
Rod. Dost thou know Count Louis, whom the king lately banished?
Hugo. Nay, my lord; I never saw him.
Rod. [_aside_]. Ha! that is well. It matters not; 'tis not of him I
speak. Take more wine, good Hugo. Listen, there is a certain lord,--one
whom I hate. I seek his life. Here is gold--thou hast a dagger, and can
use it well. Dost understand me?
Hugo. Ay, my lord, most clearly. Name the place and hour; count out the
gold,--I and my dagger then are thine.
Rod. 'Tis well. Now harken. In the forest, near old Norna's cave, there
is a quiet spot. Do thou go there to-night at sunset. Watch well, and
when thou seest a tall figure wrapped in a dark cloak, and masked,
spring forth, and do the deed. Then fling the body down the rocks, or
hide it in some secret place. Here is one half the gold; more shall be
thine when thou shalt show some token that the deed is done.
Hugo. Thanks, Count; I'll do thy bidding. At sunset in the forest,--I'll
be there, and see he leaves it not alive. Good-even, then, my lord.
Rod. Hugo, use well thy dagger, and gold awaits thee. Yet, stay! I'll
meet thee in the wood, and pay thee there. They might suspect if they
should see thee here again so soon. I'll meet thee there, and so
farewell.
Hugo. Adieu, my lord.
[_Exit_ Hugo].
Rod. Yes; all goes well. My rival dead, and Leonore is mine. With her I
may forget the pale face that now seems ever looking into mine. I can
almost think the deep wound shows in her picture yonder. But this is
folly! Shame on thee, Rodolpho. I'll think of it no more. [_Turns to
drink._ Theresa's _face appears within the picture, the wound upon her
brow._] Ha! what is that? Am I going mad? See the eyes move,--it is
Theresa's face! Nay, I will not look again. Yes, yes; 'tis there! Will
this sad face haunt me forever?
Theresa. Forever! Forever!
Rod. Fiends take me,--'tis her voice! It is no dream. Ah, let me go
away--away!
[Rodolpho _rushes wildly out._]
CURTAIN.
NOTE TO SCENE FIFTH.
The apparently impossible transformations of this scene (when played by
two actors only) may be thus explained:--
The costumes of Louis and Norna, being merely loose garments, afford
opportunities for rapid change; and the indulgent audience overlooking
such minor matters as boots and wigs, it became an easy matter for Jo to
transform herself into either of the four characters which she assumed
on this occasion.
Beneath the flowing robes of the sorceress Jo was fully dressed as Count
Rodolpho. Laid conveniently near were the black cloak, hat, and mask of
Louis,--also the white draperies required for the ghostly Theresa.
Thus, Norna appears in long, gray robe, to which are attached the hood
and elf-locks of the witch. Seeing Hugo approach she conceals herself
among the trees, thus gaining time to don the costume of Louis, and
appear to Hugo who awaits him.
Hugo stabs and drags him from the stage. Louis then throws off his
disguise and becomes Rodolpho, fully dressed for his entrance a moment
later.
As Hugo does not again appear, it is an easy matter to assume the
character of the spectre and produce the sights and sounds which terrify
the guilty Count; then slipping on the witch's robe, be ready to glide
forth and close the scene with dramatic effect.
SCENE FIFTH.
[_The wood near_ Norna's _cave._
_Enter_ Norna.]
Norna. It is the hour I bid him come with the letter for Lady Leonore.
Poor youth, his sister slain, his life in danger, and the lady of his
love far from him, 'tis a bitter fate. But, if old Norna loses not her
power, he shall yet win his liberty, his love, and his revenge. Ah, he
comes,--nay, 'tis the ruffian Hugo. I will conceal myself,--some evil is
afoot [_hides among the trees_].
[_Enter_ Hugo.
Hugo. This is the spot. Here will I hide, and bide my time [_conceals
himself among the rocks_].
[_Enter_ Louis.
Louis. She is not here. I'll wait awhile and think of Leonore. How will
she receive this letter? Ah, could she know how, 'mid all my grief and
danger, her dear face shines in my heart, and cheers me on. [Hugo
_steals out, and as he turns, stabs him._] Ha, villain, thou hast killed
me! I am dying! God bless thee, Leonore! Norna, remember, vengeance on
Rodolpho! [_Falls_]
Hugo. Nay, nay, thou wilt take no revenge; thy days are ended, thanks to
this good steel. Now, for the token [_takes letter from_ Louis's
_hand_]. Ah, this he cannot doubt. I will take this ring too; 'tis a
costly one. I'll hide the body in the thicket yonder, ere my lord
arrives [_drags out the body_].
[_Enter_ Rodolpho.
Rod. Not here? Can he have failed? Here is blood--it may be his. I'll
call. Hugo, good Hugo, art thou here?
Hugo [_stealing from the trees_]. Ay, my lord, I am here. All is safely
done: the love-sick boy lies yonder in the thicket, dead as steel can
make him. And here is the token if you doubt me, and the ring I just
took from his hand [_gives letter_].
Rod. Nay, nay, I do not doubt thee; keep thou the ring. I am content
with this. Tell me, did he struggle with thee when thou dealt the blow?
Hugo. Nay, my lord; he fell without a groan, and murmuring something of
revenge on thee, he died. Hast thou the gold?
Rod. Yes, yes, I have it. Take it, and remember I can take thy life as
easily as thou hast his, if thou shouldst whisper what hath been this
day done. Now go; I've done with thee.
Hugo. And I with thee. Adieu, my lord.
[_Exit_ Hugo.
Rod. Now am I safe,--no mortal knows of Theresa's death by my hand, and
Leonore is mine.
Voice [_within the wood]._ Never--never!
Rod. Curses on me! Am I bewitched? Surely, I heard a voice; perchance
'twas but an echo [_a wild laugh rings through the trees_]. Fiends take
the wood! I'll stay no longer! [_Turns to fly._ Theresa's _spirit
rises._] 'Tis there,--help, help--[_Rushes wildly out._]
[_Enter_ Norna.
Norna. Ha, ha! fiends shall haunt thee, thou murderer! Another sin upon
thy soul,--another life to be avenged! Poor, murdered youth, now gone to
join thy sister. I will lay thee by her side and then to my work. He
hath raised another ghost to haunt him. Let him beware!
[_Exit_ Norna.
CURTAIN.
SCENE SIXTH.
[_Chamber in the castle of_ Lady Leonore.
_Enter_ Leonore.]
Leonore. Ah, how wearily the days go by. No tidings of Count Louis, and
Count Rodolpho urges on his suit so earnestly. I must accept his hand
to-day, or refuse his love, and think no more of Louis. I know not how
to choose. Rodolpho loves me: I am an orphan and alone, and in his
lovely home I may be happy. I have heard it whispered that he is both
stern and cruel, yet methinks it cannot be,--he is so tender when with
me. Ah, would I could forget Count Louis! He hath never told his love,
and doubtless thinks no more of her who treasures up his gentle words,
and cannot banish them, even when another offers a heart and home few
would refuse. How shall I answer Count Rodolpho when he comes? I do not
love him as I should, and yet it were no hard task to learn with so fond
a teacher. Shall I accept his love, or shall I reject?
[Norna _suddenly appears._
Norna. Reject.
Leonore. Who art thou? Leave me, or I call for aid.
Norna. Nay, lady, fear not. I come not here to harm thee, but to save
thee from a fate far worse than death. I am old Norna of the forest, and
though they call me witch and sorceress, I am a woman yet, and with a
heart to pity and to love. I would save thy youth and beauty from the
blight I fear will fall upon thee.
Leonore. Save me! from what? How knowest thou I am in danger; and from
what wouldst thou save me, Norna?
Norna. From Lord Rodolpho, lady.
Leonore. Ah! and why from him? Tell on, I'll listen to thee now. He hath
offered me his heart and hand. Why should I not accept them, Norna?
Norna. That heart is filled with dark and evil passions, and that hand
is stained with blood. Ay, lady, well mayst thou start. I will tell thee
more. The splendid home he would lead thee to is darkened by a fearful
crime, and his fair palace haunted by the spirit of a murdered wife.
[Leonore _starts up._
Leonore. Wife, sayest thou? He told me he was never wed. Mysterious
woman, tell me more! How dost thou know 'tis true, and wherefore was it
done? I have a right to know. Oh, speak, and tell me all!
Norna. For that have I come hither. He hath been wed to a lady, young
and lovely as thyself. He kept her prisoner in his splendid home, and by
neglect and cruelty he broke as warm and true a heart as ever beat in
woman's breast. Her brother stole unseen to cheer and comfort her, and
this aroused her lord's suspicions, and he bid her to confess who was
her unknown friend. She would not yield her brother to his hate, and he
in his wild anger murdered her. I heard his cruel words, her prayers for
mercy, and I stood beside the lifeless form and marked the blow his evil
hand had given her. And there I vowed I would avenge the deed, and for
this have I come hither to warn thee of thy danger. He loves thee only
for thy wealth, and when thou art his, will wrong thee as he hath the
meek Theresa.
Leonore. How shall I ever thank thee for this escape from sorrow and
despair? I did not love him, but I am alone, and his kind words were
sweet and tender. I thought with him I might be happy yet, but--Ah, how
little did I dream of sin like this! Thank Heaven, 'tis not too late!
Norna. How wilt thou answer Lord Rodolpho now?
Leonore. I will answer him with all the scorn and loathing that I feel.
I fear him not, and he shall learn how his false vows are despised, and
his sins made known.
Norna. 'Tis well; but stay,--be thou not too proud. Speak fairly, and
reject him courteously; for he will stop at nought in his revenge if
thou but rouse his hatred. And now, farewell. I'll watch above thee, and
in thy hour of danger old Norna will be nigh. Stay, give me some token,
by which thou wilt know the messenger I may find cause to send thee. The
fierce Count will seek to win thee, and repay thy scorn by all the evil
his cruel heart can bring.
Leonore. Take this ring, and I will trust whoever thou mayst send with
it. I owe thee much, and, believe me, I am grateful for thy care, and
will repay thee by my confidence and truth. Farewell, old Norna; watch
thou above the helpless, and thine old age shall be made happy by my
care.
Norna. Heaven bless thee, gentle lady. Good angels guard thee. Norna
will not forget.
[_Exit_ Norna.
Leonore. 'Tis like a dream, so strange, so terrible,--he whom I thought
so gentle, and so true is stained with fearful crimes! Poor, murdered
lady! Have I escaped a fate like thine? Ah, I hear his step! Now, heart,
be firm and he shall enter here no more.
[_Enter_ Rodolpho.
Rod. Sweet lady, I am here to learn my fate. I have told my love, and
thou hast listened; I have asked thy hand, and thou hast not refused it.
I have offered all that I possess,--my home, my heart. Again I lay them
at thy feet, beloved Leonore. Oh, wilt thou but accept them, poor tho'
they be, and in return let me but claim this fair hand as mine own?
[_Takes her hand and kneels before her._
Leonore [_withdrawing her hand_]. My lord, forgive me, but I cannot
grant it. When last we met thou didst bid me ask my heart if it could
love thee. It hath answered, "Nay." I grieve I cannot make a fit return
for all you offer, but I have no love to give, and without it this poor
hand were worthless. There are others far more fit to grace thy home
than I. Go, win thyself a loving bride, and so forget Leonore.
Rod. What hath changed thee thus since last we met. Then wert thou kind,
and listened gladly to my love. Now there is a scornful smile upon thy
lips, and a proud light in thine eye. What means this? Why dost thou
look so coldly on me, Leonore? Who has whispered false tales in thine
ear? Believe them not. I am as true as Heaven to thee; then do not cast
away the heart so truly thine. Smile on me, dearest; thou art my first,
last, only love.
Leonore. 'Tis false, my lord! Hast thou so soon forgot _Theresa_?
Rod. What! Who told thee that accursed tale? What dost thou mean,
Leonore?
Leonore. I mean thy sinful deeds are known. Thou hast asked me why I
will not wed thee, and I answer, I will not give my hand unto a
murderer.
Rod. Murderer! No more of this! Thy tale is false; forget it, and I will
forgive the idle words. Now listen; I came hither to receive thy answer
to my suit. Think ere thou decide. Thou art an orphan, unprotected and
alone. I am powerful and great. Wilt thou take my love, and with it
honor, wealth, happiness, and ease, or my hate, which will surely follow
thee and bring down desolation on thee and all thou lovest? Now choose,
my hatred, or my love.
Leonore. My lord, I scorn thy love, and I defy thy hate. Work thy will,
I fear thee not. I am not so unprotected as thou thinkest. There are
unseen friends around me who will save in every peril, and who are sworn
to take revenge on thee for thy great sins. This is my answer;
henceforth we are strangers; now leave me. I would be alone.
Rod. Not yet, proud lady. If thou wilt not love, I'll make thee learn to
fear the heart thou hast so scornfully cast away. Let thy friends guard
thee well; thou wilt need their care when I begin my work of vengeance.
Thou mayst smile, but thou shalt rue the day when Count Rodolpho asked
and was refused. But I will yet win thee, and then beware! And when thou
dost pray for mercy on thy knees, remember the haughty words thou hast
this day spoken.
Leonore. Do thy worst, murderer; spirits will watch above me, and thou
canst not harm. Adieu, my lord.
[_Exit_ Leonore.
Rod. Foiled again! Some demon works against me. Who could have told her
of Theresa? A little longer, and I should have won a rich young bride,
and now this tale of murder mars it all. But I will win her yet, and
wring her proud heart till she shall bend her haughty head and sue for
mercy.
How shall it be done? Stay! Ha, I see a way!--the letter Louis would
have sent her ere he died. She knows not of his death, and I will send
this paper bidding her to meet her lover in the forest. She cannot doubt
the lines his own hand traced. She will obey,--and I'll be there to lead
her to my castle. I'll wed her, and she may scorn, weep, and pray in
vain. Ha, ha! proud Leonore, spite of thy guardian spirits thou shalt be
mine, and then for my revenge!
[_Exit_ Rodolpho.
CURTAIN.
SCENE SEVENTH.
[Leonore's _room_.
_Enter_ Leonore _with a letter_.]
Leonore. 'Tis strange; an unknown page thrust this into my hand while
kneeling in the chapel. Ah, surely, I should know this hand! 'Tis
Louis's, and at last he hath returned, and still remembers Leonore
[_opens letter and reads_].
Dearest Lady,--I am banished from the land by Count Rodolpho's
false tales to the king; and thus I dare not venture near thee.
But by the love my lips have never told, I do conjure thee to
bestow one last look, last word, on him whose cruel fate it is
to leave all that he most fondly loves. If thou wilt grant this
prayer, meet me at twilight in the glen beside old Norna's
cave. She will be there to guard thee. Dearest Leonore, before
we part, perchance forever, grant this last boon to one who in
banishment, in grief and peril, is forever thy devoted
Louis.
He loves me, and mid danger still remembers. Ah, Louis, there is nothing
thou canst ask I will not gladly grant. I'll go; the sun is well-nigh
set, and I can steal away unseen to whisper hope and comfort ere we part
forever. Now, Count Rodolpho, thou hast given me another cause for hate.
Louis, I can love thee tho' thou art banished and afar.
Hark! 'tis the vesper-bell. Now, courage, heart, and thou shalt mourn no
longer.
[_Exit_ Leonore.
CURTAIN.
SCENE EIGHTH.
[_Glen near_ Norna's _cave.
Enter_ Leonore.]
Leonore. Norna is not here, nor Louis. Why comes he not? Surely 'tis the
place. Norna! Louis! art thou here?
[_Enter_ Rodolpho, _masked_.
Rod. I am here, dear lady. Do not fear me; I may not unmask even to
thee, for spies may still be near me. Wilt thou pardon, and still trust
me tho' thou canst not see how fondly I am looking on thee. See! here is
my ring, my dagger. Oh, Leonore, do not doubt me!
Leonore. I do trust thee; canst thou doubt it now? Oh, Louis! I feared
thou wert dead. Why didst thou not tell me all before. And where wilt
thou go, and how can I best serve thee? Nought thou canst ask my love
shall leave undone.
Rod. Wilt thou let me guide thee to yonder tower? I fear to tell thee
here, and old Norna is there waiting for thee. Come, love, for thy
Louis's sake, dare yet a little more, and I will tell thee how thou
canst serve me. Wilt thou not put thy faith in me, Leonore?
Leonore. I will. Forgive me, if I seem to fear thee; but thy voice
sounds strangely hollow, and thine eyes look darkly on me from behind
this mask. Thou wilt lay it by when we are safe, and then I shall forget
this foolish fear that hangs upon me.
Rod. Thine own hands shall remove it, love. Come, it is not far. Would I
might guide thee thus through life! Come, dearest!
[_Exit._
CURTAIN.
SCENE NINTH.
[_Castle of_ Rodolpho. _The haunted chamber.
Enter_ Rodolpho _leading_ Leonore.]
Leonore. Where art thou leading me, dear Louis? Thy hiding-place is a
pleasant one, but where is Norna? I thought she waited for us.
Rod. She will soon be here. Ah, how can I thank thee for this joyful
hour, Leonore. I can forget all danger and all sorrow now.
Leonore. Nay, let me cast away this mournful mask! I long to look upon
thy face once more. Wilt thou let me, Louis?
Rod. Ay, look upon me if thou wilt;--dost like it, lady? [_Drops his
disguise._ Leonore _shrieks, and rushes to the door, but finds it
locked_.] 'Tis useless; there are none to answer to thy call. All here
are my slaves, and none dare disobey. Where are thy proud words now?
hast thou no scornful smile for those white lips, no anger in those
beseeching eyes? Where are thy friends? Why come they not to aid thee?
Said I not truly my revenge was sure?
Leonore. Oh, pardon me, and pity! See, I will kneel to thee, pray, weep,
if thou wilt only let me go. Forgive my careless words! Oh, Count
Rodolpho, take me home, and I will forget this cruel jest [_kneels_].
Rod. Ha, ha! It is no jest, and thou hast no home but this. Didst thou
not come willingly? I used no force; and all disguise is fair in love.
Nay, kneel not to me. Did I not say thou wouldst bend thy proud head,
and sue for mercy, and I would deny it? Where is thy defiance now?
Leonore [_rising_]. I'll kneel no more to thee. The first wild fear is
past, and thou shalt find me at thy feet no more. As I told thee _then_,
I tell thee _now_,--thine I will never be; and think not I will fail or
falter at thy threats. Contempt of thee is too strong for fear.
Rod. Not conquered yet. Time will teach thee to speak more courteously
to thy master. Ah, thou mayst well look upon these bawbles. They were
thy lover's once. This ring was taken from his lifeless hand; this
dagger from his bleeding breast, as he lay within the forest whence I
led thee. This scroll I found next his heart when it had ceased to beat.
I lured thee hither with it, and won my sweet revenge. [Leonore _sinks
down weeping._] Now rest thee; for when the castle clock strikes ten, I
shall come to lead thee to the altar. The priest is there,--this ring
shall wed thee. Farewell, fair bride; remember,--there is no escape, and
thou art mine forever.
Leonore [_starting up_]. Never! I shall be free when thou mayst think
help past forever. There is a friend to help me, and an arm to save,
when earthly aid is lost. Thine I shall never be! Thou mayst seek me; I
shall be gone.
Rod. Thou wilt need thy prayers. I shall return,--remember, when the
clock strikes ten, I come to win my bride.
[_Exit._
Leonore. He has gone, and now a few short hours of life are left to me;
for if no other help shall come, death can save me from a fate I loathe.
Ah, Louis, Louis, thou art gone forever! Norna, where is thy promise now
to guard me? Is there no help? Nor tears nor prayers can melt that cruel
heart, and I am in his power. Ha! what is that?--_his_ dagger, taken
from his dying breast. How gladly would he have drawn it forth to save
his poor Leonore! Alas, that hand is cold forever! But I must be calm.
He shall see how a weak woman's heart can still defy him, and win
liberty by death [_takes the dagger; clock strikes ten_]. It is the
hour,--the knell of my young life. Hark! they come. Louis, thy Leonore
ere long will join thee, never more to part.
[_The secret panel opens._ Adrian _enters masked._]
Adrian. Stay, lady! stay thy hand! I come to save thee. Norna sends
me,--see, thy token; doubt not, nor delay; another moment, we are lost.
Oh, fly, I do beseech thee!
Leonore. Heaven bless thee; I will come. Kind friend, I put a helpless
maiden's trust in thee.
Adrian. Stay not! away, away!
[_Exit through the secret panel, which disappears._
Enter_ Rodolpho.
Rod. Is my fair bride ready? Ha! Leonore, where art thou?
Voice. Gone,--gone forever!
Rod. Girl, mock me not; come forth, I say. Thou shalt not escape me.
Leonore, answer! Where is my bride?
Voice [_behind the curtains_]. Here--
Rod. Why do I fear? She is there concealed [_lifts the curtain; spirit
of_ Theresa _rises_]. The fiends! what is that? The spirit haunts me
still!
Voice. Forever, forever--
Rod. [_rushes to the door but finds it locked_]. What ho! without
there! Beat down the door! Pedro! Carlos! let me come forth! They do not
come! Nay, 'tis my fancy; I will forget it all. Still, the door is fast;
Leonore is gone. _Who_ groans so bitterly? Wild voices are sounding in
the air, ghastly faces are looking on me as I turn, unseen hands bar the
door, and dead men are groaning in mine ears. I'll not look, not listen;
'tis some spell set on me. Let it pass!
[_Throws himself down and covers his face._
Voice. The spell will not cease,
The curse will not fly,
And spirits shall haunt
Till the murderer shall die.
Rod. Again, spirit or demon, wherefore dost thou haunt me, and what art
thou? [Theresa's _spirit rises._] Ha! am I gone mad? Unbar the door!
Help! help! [_Falls fainting to the floor._]
[_Enter_ Norna.
Norna. Lie there, thou sinful wretch! Old Norna's curse ends but with
thy life.
[_Tableau._
CURTAIN.
SCENE TENTH.
[_A room in the castle of_ Rodolpho.
_Enter_ Rodolpho.]
Rod. Dangers seem thickening round me. Some secret spy is watching me
unseen,--I fear 'tis Hugo, spite the gold I gave him, and the vows he
made. A higher bribe may win the secret from him, and then I am undone.
Pedro hath told me that a stranger, cloaked and masked, was lurking near
the castle on the night when Leonore so strangely vanished [_a laugh_].
Ha!--what's that?--methought I heard that mocking laugh again! I am
grown fearful as a child since that most awful night. Well, well, let it
pass! If Hugo comes to-night, obedient to the message I have sent, I'll
see he goes not hence alive. This cup shalt be thy last, good Hugo!
[_Puts poison in the wine-cup._] He comes,--now for my revenge!
[_Enter_ Hugo.] Ah, Hugo, welcome! How hath it fared with thee since
last we met? Thou lookest weary,--here is wine; sit and refresh thyself.
Hugo. I came not hither, Count Rodolpho, to seek wine, but gold. Hark
ye! I am poor; thou art rich, but in my power, for proud and noble
though thou art, the low-born Hugo can bring death and dishonor on thy
head by whispering one word to the king. Ha!--now give me gold or I will
betray thee.
Rod. Thou bold villain, what means this? I paid thee well, and thou
didst vow to keep my secret. Threaten me not. Thou art in my power, and
shall never leave this room alive. I fear thee not. My menials are at
hand,--yield thyself; thou art fairly caught, and cannot now escape me.
Hugo. Nay, not so fast, my lord. One blast upon my horn, and my brave
band, concealed below, will answer to my call. Ha! ha! thou art caught,
my lord. Thy life is in my hands, and thou must purchase it by fifty
good pistoles paid down to me; if not, I will charge thee with the crime
thou didst bribe me to perform, and thus win a rich reward. Choose,--thy
life is nought to me.
Rod. Do but listen, Hugo. I have no gold; smile if thou wilt, but I am
poor. This castle only is mine own, and I am seeking now a rich young
bride whose wealth will hide my poverty. Be just, good Hugo, and forgive
the harsh words I have spoken. Wait till I am wed, and I will pay thee
well.
Hugo. That will I not. I'll have no more of thee, false lord! The king
will well reward me, and thou mayst keep thy gold. Farewell! Thou wilt
see me once again.
Rod. Stay, Hugo, stay! Give me but time; I may obtain the gold. Wait a
little, and it shall be thine. Wilt thou not drink? 'Tis the wine thou
likest so well. See! I poured it ready for thee.
Hugo. Nay; I will serve myself. Wine of thy mixing would prove too
strong for me [_sits down and drinks._ Rodolpho _paces up and down
waiting a chance to stab him_]. Think quickly, my good lord; I must be
gone [_turns his head._ R. _raises his dagger._ Hugo _rising_]. I'll
wait no more; 'tis growing late, and I care not to meet the spirits
which I hear now haunt thy castle. Well, hast thou the gold?
Rod. Not yet; but if thou wilt wait--
Hugo. I tell thee I will not. I'll be deceived no longer. Thou art mine,
and I'll repay thy scornful words and sinful deeds by a prisoner's cell.
And so, adieu, my lord. Escape is useless, for thou wilt be watched.
Hugo is the master now!
[_Exit_ Hugo.
Rod. Thou cunning villain, I'll outwit thee yet. I will disguise myself,
and watch thee well, and when least thou thinkest it, my dagger shall be
at thy breast. And now one thing remains to me, and that is flight. I
must leave all and go forth poor, dishonored, and alone; sin on my
head, and fear within my heart. Will the sun never set? How slow the
hours pass! In the first gloom of night, concealed in yonder old monk's
robe, I'll silently glide forth, and fly from Hugo and this haunted
house. Courage, Rodolpho, thou shalt yet win a name and fortune for
thyself. Now let me rest awhile; I shall need strength for the perils of
the night [_lies down and sleeps_].
[_Enter_ Norna.