Chapter 4

_An apartment in the Castle._

_A table spread for breakfast—Several servants in livery disposing the equipage_—BARON WILDENHAIM _enters, attended by a_ GENTLEMAN _in waiting._

BARON. Has not Count Cassel left his chamber yet?

GENTLEMAN. No, my lord, he has but now rung for his valet.

BARON. The whole castle smells of his perfumery. Go, call my daughter hither. [_Exit_ Gentleman.] And am I after all to have an ape for a son-in-law? No, I shall not be in a hurry—I love my daughter too well. We must be better acquainted before I give her to him. I shall not sacrifice my Amelia to the will of others, as I myself was sacrificed. The poor girl might, in thoughtlessness, say yes, and afterwards be miserable. What a pity she is not a boy! The name of Wildenhaim will die with me. My fine estates, my good peasants, all will fall into the hands of strangers. Oh! why was not my Amelia a boy?

_Enter_ AMELIA—[_She kisses the_ Baron’s _hand_.]

AMELIA. Good morning, dear my lord.

BARON. Good morning, Amelia. Have you slept well?

AMELIA. Oh! yes, papa. I always sleep well.

BARON. Not a little restless last night?

AMELIA. No.

BARON. Amelia, you know you have a father who loves you, and I believe you know you have a suitor who is come to ask permission to love you. Tell me candidly how you like Count Cassel?

AMELIA. Very well.

BARON. Do not you blush when I talk of him?

AMELIA. No.

BARON. No—I am sorry for that. [_aside_] Have you dreamt of him?

AMELIA. No.

BARON. Have you not dreamt at all to-night?

AMELIA. Oh yes—I have dreamt of our chaplain, Mr. Anhalt.

BARON. Ah ha! As if he stood before you and the Count to ask for the ring.

AMELIA. No: not that—I dreamt we were all still in France, and he, my tutor, just going to take his leave of us for ever—I ’woke with the fright, and found my eyes full of tears.

BARON. Psha! I want to know if you can love the Count. You saw him at the last ball we were at in France: when he capered round you; when he danced minuets; when he——. But I cannot say what his conversation was.

AMELIA. Nor I either—I do not remember a syllable of it.

BARON. No? Then I do not think you like him.

AMELIA. I believe not.

BARON. But I think it proper to acquaint you he is rich, and of great consequence: rich and of consequence; do you hear?

AMELIA. Yes, dear papa. But my tutor has always told me that birth and fortune are inconsiderable things, and cannot give happiness.

BARON. There he is right—But if it happens that birth and fortune are joined with sense and virtue——

AMELIA. But is it so with Count Cassel?

BARON. Hem! Hem! [_Aside._] I will ask you a few questions on this subject; but be sure to answer me honestly—Speak truth.

AMELIA. I never told an untruth in my life.

BARON. Nor ever _conceal_ the truth from me, I command you.

AMELIA. [_Earnestly._] Indeed, my lord, I never will.

BARON. I take you at your word—And now reply to me truly—Do you like to hear the Count spoken of?

AMELIA. Good, or bad?

BARON. Good. Good.

AMELIA. Oh yes; I like to hear good of every body.

BARON. But do not you feel a little fluttered when he is talked of?

AMELIA. No. [_shaking her head._]

BARON. Are not you a little embarrassed?

AMELIA. No.

BARON. Don’t you wish sometimes to speak to him, and have not the courage to begin?

AMELIA. No.

BARON. Do not you wish to take his part when his companions laugh at him?

AMELIA. No—I love to laugh at him myself.

BARON. Provoking! [_Aside._] Are not you afraid of him when he comes near you?

AMELIA. No, not at all.—Oh yes—once. [_recollecting herself._]

BARON. Ah! Now it comes!

AMELIA. Once at a ball he trod on my foot; and I was so afraid he should tread on me again.

BARON. You put me out of patience. Hear, Amelia! [_stops short, and speaks softer._] To see you happy is my wish. But matrimony, without concord, is like a duetto badly performed; for that reason, nature, the great composer of all harmony, has ordained, that, when bodies are allied, hearts should be in perfect unison. However, I will send Mr. Anhalt to you——

AMELIA. [_much pleased_]. Do, papa.

BARON. ——He shall explain to you my sentiments. [_Rings._] A clergyman can do this better than——[_Enter servant._] Go directly to Mr. Anhalt, tell him that I shall be glad to see him for a quarter of an hour if he is not engaged. [_Exit servant._

AMELIA. [_calls after him_]. Wish him a good morning from me.

BARON. [_looking at his watch_]. The Count is a tedious time dressing.—Have you breakfasted, Amelia?

AMELIA. No, papa. [_they sit down to breakfast._]

BARON. How is the weather? Have you walked this morning?

AMELIA. Oh, yes—I was in the garden at five o’clock; it is very fine.

BARON. Then I’ll go out shooting. I do not know in what other way to amuse my guest.

_Enter Count_ CASSEL.

COUNT. Ah, my dear Colonel! Miss Wildenhaim, I kiss your hand.

BARON. Good morning! Good morning! though it is late in the day, Count. In the country we should rise earlier.

[Amelia _offers the_ Count _a Cup of tea_.]

COUNT. Is it Hebe herself, or Venus, or——

AMELIA. Ha, ha, ha! Who can help laughing at his nonsense?

BARON. [_rather angry_]. Neither Venus, not Hebe; but Amelia Wildenhaim, if you please.

COUNT. [_Sitting down to breakfast_]. You are beautiful, Miss Wildenhaim.—Upon my honour, I think so. I have travelled, and seen much of the world, and yet I can positively admire you.

AMELIA. I am sorry I have not seen the world.

COUNT. Wherefore?

AMELIA. Because I might then, perhaps, admire you.

COUNT. True;—for I am an epitome of the world. In my travels I learnt delicacy in Italy—hauteur, in Spain—in France, enterprize—in Russia, prudence—in England, sincerity—in Scotland, frugality—and in the wilds of America, I learnt love.

AMELIA. Is there any country where love is taught?

COUNT. In all barbarous countries. But the whole system is exploded in places that are civilized.

AMELIA. And what is substituted in its stead?

COUNT. Intrigue.

AMELIA. What a poor, uncomfortable substitute!

COUNT. There are other things—Song, dance, the opera, and war.

[_Since the entrance of the_ Count _the_ Baron _has removed to a table at a little distance._

BARON. What are you talking of there?

COUNT. Of war, Colonel.

BARON. [_rising_]. Ay, we like to talk on what we don’t understand.

COUNT. [_rising_]. Therefore, to a lady, I always speak of politics; and to her father, on love.

BARON. I believe, Count, notwithstanding your sneer, I am still as much a proficient in that art as yourself.

COUNT. I do not doubt it, my dear Colonel, for you are a soldier: and since the days of Alexander, whoever conquers men is certain to overcome women.

BARON. An achievement to animate a poltroon.

COUNT. And, I verily believe, gains more recruits than the king’s pay.

BARON. Now we are on the subject of arms, should you like to go out a shooting with me for an hour before dinner?

COUNT. Bravo, Colonel! A charming thought! This will give me an opportunity to use my elegant gun: the but is inlaid with mother-of-pearl. You cannot find better work, or better taste.—Even my coat of arms is engraved.

BARON. But can you shoot?

COUNT. That I have never tried—except, with my eyes, at a fine woman.

BARON. I am not particular what game I pursue.—I have an old gun; it does not look fine; But I can always bring down my bird.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SERVANT. Mr. Anhalt begs leave——

BARON. Tell him to come in.—I shall be ready in a moment. [_Exit_ Servant.

COUNT. Who is Mr. Anhalt?

AMELIA. Oh, a very good man. [_With warmth._]

COUNT. “A good man.” In Italy, that means a religious man; in France, it means a cheerful man; in Spain, it means a wise man; and in England, it means a rich man.—Which good of all these is Mr. Anhalt?

AMELIA. A good man in every country, except England.

COUNT. And give me the English good man, before that of any other nation.

BARON. And of what nation would you prefer your good woman to be, Count?

COUNT. Of Germany. [_bowing to_ Amelia.]

AMELIA. In compliment to me?

COUNT. In justice to my own judgment.

BARON. Certainly. For have we not an instance of one German woman, who possesses every virtue that ornaments the whole sex; whether as a woman of illustrious rank, or in the more exalted character of a wife, and mother?

_Enter Mr._ ANHALT.

MR. ANHALT. I come by your command, Baron——

BARON. Quick, Count.—Get your elegant gun.—I pass your apartments, and will soon call for you.

COUNT. I fly.—Beautiful Amelia, it is a sacrifice I make to your father, that I leave for a few hours his amiable daughter. [_Exit._

BARON. My dear Amelia, I think it scarcely necessary to speak to Mr. Anhalt, or that he should speak to you, on the subject of the Count; but as he is here, leave us alone.

AMELIA. [_as she retires_]. Good morning, Mr. Anhalt.—I hope you are very well. [_Exit._

BARON. I’ll tell you in a few words why I sent for you. Count Cassel is here, and wishes to marry my daughter.

MR. ANHALT. [_much concerned_]. Really!

BARON. He is—he—in a word I don’t like him.

MR. ANHALT. [_with emotion_]. And Miss Wildenhaim ——

BARON. I shall not command, neither persuade her to the marriage—I know too well the fatal influence of parents on such a subject. Objections to be sure, if they could be removed—But when you find a man’s head without brains, and his bosom without a heart, these are important articles to supply. Young as you are, Anhalt, I know no one so able to restore, or to bestow those blessings on his fellow-creatures, as you. [Anhalt _bows._] The Count wants a little of my daughter’s simplicity and sensibility.—Take him under your care while he is here, and make him something like yourself.—You have succeeded to my wish in the education of my daughter.—Form the Count after your own manner.—I shall then have what I have sighed for all my life—a son.

MR. ANHALT. With your permission, Baron, I will ask one question. What remains to interest you in favour of a man, whose head and heart are good for nothing?

BARON. Birth and fortune. Yet, if I thought my daughter absolutely disliked him, or that she loved another, I would not thwart a first affection;—no, for the world, I would not. [_sighing._] But that her affections are already bestowed, is not probable.

MR. ANHALT. Are you of opinion that she will never fall in love?

BARON. Oh! no. I am of opinion that no woman ever arrived at the age of twenty without that misfortune.—But this is another subject.—Go to Amelia—explain to her the duties of a wife and of a mother.—If she comprehends them, as she ought, then ask her if she thinks she could fulfil those duties, as the wife of Count Cassel.

MR. ANHALT. I will.—But—I—Miss Wildenhaim—[_confused._ I—I shall—I—I shall obey your commands.

BARON. Do so. [_gives a deep sigh._] Ah! so far this weight is removed; but there lies still a heavier next my heart.—You understand me.—How is it, Mr. Anhalt? Have you not yet been able to make any discoveries on that unfortunate subject?

MR. ANHALT. I have taken infinite pains; but in vain. No such person is to be found.

BARON. Believe me, this burthen presses on my thoughts so much, that many nights I go without sleep. A man is sometimes tempted to commit such depravity when young.—Oh, Anhalt! had I, in my youth, had you for a tutor;—but I had no instructor but my passions; no governor but my own will. [_Exit._

MR. ANHALT. This commission of the Baron’s in respect to his daughter, I am—[_looks about_]—If I shou’d meet her now, I cannot—I must recover myself first, and then prepare.—A walk in the fields, and a fervent prayer—After these, I trust, I shall return, as a man whose views are solely placed on a future world; all hopes in this, with fortitude resigned. [_Exit._