Act 4 — ACT IV.
Reading edition
Scene—The Inn door—Diligence drawn up. Casimere appears superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving directions to the Porters.
Enter Beefington and Puddingfield.
Pudd. Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places?
Coach. Yes, your honour.
Pudd. [seems to be struck with Casimere's appearance. He surveys him earnestly, without paying any attention to the coachman, then doubtingly pronounces] Casimere!
Cas. [turning round rapidly, recognises Puddingfield, and embraces him.] My Puddingfield!
Pudd. My Casimere!
Cas. What, Beefington too! [discovering him.] Then is my joy complete.
Beef. Our fellow-traveller, as it seems.
Cas. Yes, Beefington—but wherefore to Hamburgh?
Beef. Oh, Casimere[211]—to fly—to fly—to return—England—our country—Magna Charta—it is liberated—a new era—House of Commons—Crown and Anchor—Opposition——
Cas. What a contrast! you are flying to liberty and your home—I, driven from my home by tyranny—am exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign country.
Beef. How domestic slavery?
Cas. Too true—two wives [slowly, and with a dejected air—then after a pause]—you knew my Cecilia?
Pudd. Yes, five years ago.
Cas. Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in Wetteravia—my Matilda was under her protection—alighting at a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread-and-butter for the children, in a light-blue riding habit. The simplicity of her appearance—the fineness of the weather—all conspired to interest me—my heart moved to hers—as if by a magnetic sympathy—we wept, embraced, and went home together—she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience—her Rogero is languishing in captivity—if I could restore her to him!
Beef. Let us rescue him.
Cas. Will without power[212] is like children playing at soldiers.
Beef. Courage without power[213] is like a consumptive running footman.
Cas. Courage without power is a contradiction.[214] Ten brave men might set all Quedlinburgh at defiance.
Beef. Ten brave men—but where are they to be found?
Cas. I will tell you—marked you the waiter?
Beef. The waiter? [Doubtingly.
Cas. [in a confidential tone.] No waiter, but a Knight Templar. Returning from the crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and his person proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced the profession of a waiter. I have made sure of him already. There are, besides, an Austrian and a Prussian grenadier. I have made them abjure their national enmity, and they have sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of freedom. These, with Young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make seven—the troubadour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete the ten.
Beef. Now then for the execution. [With enthusiasm.
Pudd. Yes, my boys—for the execution. [Clapping them on the back.
Waiter. But hist! we are observed.
Trou. Let us by a song conceal our purposes.
RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.[215]
Cas. Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blow From Night's cold lungs, our purpose know! Pudd. Let Silence, mother of the dumb, Beef. Press on each lip her palsied thumb! Wait. Let privacy, allied to sin, That loves to haunt the tranquil inn— Gren.} And Conscience start, when she shall view, Trou. } The mighty deed we mean to do!
GENERAL CHORUS—Con spirito.
Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands, Swear to save a shackled hero! See where yon Abbey frowning stands! Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero! Cas. Thrall'd in a Monkish tyrant's fetters, Shall great Rogero hopeless lie? Y. Pot. In my pocket I have letters, Saying, "help me, or I die!" Allegro Allegretto. Cas. Beef. Pudd. Gren. Trou. } Let us fly, let us fly, Waiter, and Pot. with enthusiasm } Let us help, ere he die! [Exeunt omnes, waving their hats.
Scene.—The Abbey gate, with ditches, drawbridges, and spikes. Time—about an hour before sunrise. The conspirators appear as if in ambuscade, whispering, and consulting together, in expectation of the signal for attack. The Waiter is habited as a Knight Templar, in the dress of his Order, with the cross on his breast, and the scallop on his shoulder; Puddingfield and Beefington armed with blunderbusses and pocket pistols; the Grenadiers in their proper uniforms. The Troubadour, with his attendant Minstrels, bring up the rear—martial music—the conspirators come forward, and present themselves before the gate of the Abbey.—Alarum—firing of pistols—the Convent appear in arms upon the walls—the drawbridge is let down—a body of choristers and lay-brothers attempt a sally, but are beaten back, and the verger killed. The besieged attempt to raise the drawbridge—Puddingfield and Beefington press forward with alacrity, throw themselves upon the drawbridge, and by the exertion of their weight, preserve it in a state of depression—the other besiegers join them, and attempt to force the entrance, but without effect. Puddingfield makes the signal for the battering ram. Enter Quintus Curtius and Marcus Curius Dentatus, in their proper military habits, preceded by the Roman Eagle—the rest of their legion are employed in bringing forward a battering ram, which plays for a few minutes to slow time, till the entrance is forced. After a short resistance, the besiegers rush in with shouts of victory.
Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey. The inhabitants of the Convent are seen flying in all directions.
The Count of Weimar and Prior, who had been feasting in the refectory, are brought in manacled. The Count appears transported with rage, and gnaws his chains. The Prior remains insensible, as if stupefied with grief. Beefington takes the keys of the dungeon, which are hanging at the Prior's girdle, and makes a sign for them both to be led away into confinement.—Exeunt Prior and Count properly guarded. The rest of the conspirators disperse in search of the dungeon where Rogero is confined.