Chapter 7

_A Prison in one of the Towers of the Castle._ FREDERICK [_alone_].

FREDERICK. How a few moments destroy the happiness of man! When I, this morning, set out from my inn, and saw the sun rise, I sung with joy.—Flattered with the hope of seeing my mother, I formed a scheme how I would with joy surprize her. But, farewell all pleasant prospects—I return to my native country, and the first object I behold, is my dying parent; my first lodging, a prison; and my next walk will perhaps be—oh, merciful providence! have I deserved all this?

_Enter_ AMELIA _with a small basket covered with a napkin.—She speaks to someone without._

AMELIA. Wait there, Francis, I shall soon be back.

FREDERICK. [_hearing the door open, and turning around_]. Who’s there?

AMELIA. You must be hungry and thirsty, I fear.

FREDERICK. Oh, no! neither.

AMELIA. Here is a bottle of wine, and something to eat. [_Places the basket on the table._] I have often heard my father say, that wine is quite a cordial to the heart.

FREDERICK. A thousand thanks, dear stranger. Ah! could I prevail on you to have it sent to my mother, who is on her death-bed, under the roof of an honest peasant, called Hubert! Take it hence, my kind benefactress, and save my mother.

AMELIA. But first assure me that you did not intend to murder my father.

FREDERICK. Your father! heaven forbid.—I meant but to preserve her life, who gave me mine.—Murder your father! No, no—I hope not.

AMELIA. And I thought not—Or, if you had murdered any one, you had better have killed the Count; nobody would have missed him.

FREDERICK. Who, may I enquire, were those gentlemen, whom I hoped to frighten into charity?

AMELIA. Ay, if you only intended to frighten them, the Count was the very person for your purpose. But you caught hold of the other gentleman.—And could you hope to intimidate Baron Wildenhaim?

FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim!—Almighty powers!

AMELIA. What’s the matter?

FREDERICK. The man to whose breast I held my sword——[_trembling_].

AMELIA. Was Baron Wildenhaim—the owner of this estate—my father!

FREDERICK. [_with the greatest emotion_]. _My_ father!

AMELIA. Good heaven, how he looks! I am afraid he’s mad. Here! Francis, Francis. [_Exit, calling._

FREDERICK. [_all agitation_]. My _father_! Eternal judge! tho do’st slumber! The man, against whom I drew my sword this day was my father! One moment longer, and provoked, I might have been the murderer of my father! my hair stands on end! my eyes are clouded! I cannot see any thing before me. [_Sinks down on chair_]. If Providence had ordained that I should give the fatal blow, who, would have been most in fault?—I dare not pronounce—[_after a pause_] That benevolent young female who left me just now, is, then, my sister—and I suppose that fop, who accompanied my father——

_Enter_ MR. ANHALT.

Welcome, Sir! By your dress you are of the church, and consequently a messenger of comfort. You are most welcome, Sir.

MR. ANHALT. I wish to bring comfort and avoid upbraidings: for your own conscience will reproach you more than the voice of a preacher. From the sensibility of your countenance, together with a language, and address superior to the vulgar, it appears, young man, you have had an education, which should have preserved you from a state like this.

FREDERICK. My education I owe to my mother. Filial love, in return, has plunged me into the state you see. A civil magistrate will condemn according to the law—A priest, in judgment, is not to consider the act itself, but the impulse which led to the act.

MR. ANHALT. I shall judge with all the lenity my religion dictates: and you are the prisoner of a nobleman, who compassionates you for the affection which you bear towards your mother; for he has sent to the village where you directed him, and has found the account you gave relating to her true.—With this impression in your favour, it is my advice, that you endeavour to see and supplicate the Baron for your release from prison, and all the peril of his justice.

FREDERICK. [_starting_]. I—I see the Baron! I!—I supplicate for my deliverance.—Will you favour me with his name?—Is it not Baron——

MR. ANHALT. Baron Wildenhaim.

FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim! He lived formerly in Alsace.

MR. ANHALT. The same.—About a year after the death of his wife, he left Alsace; and arrived here a few weeks ago to take possession of his paternal estate.

FREDERICK. So! his wife is dead;—and that generous young lady who came to my prison just now is his daughter?

MR. ANHALT. Miss Wildenhaim, his daughter.

FREDERICK. And that young gentleman, I saw with him this morning, is his son?

MR. ANHALT. He has no son.

FREDERICK. [_hastily_]. Oh, yes, he has—[_recollecting himself_]—I mean him that was out shooting to-day.

MR. ANHALT. He is not his son.

FREDERICK. [_to himself_]. Thank Heaven!

MR. ANHALT. He is only a visitor.

FREDERICK. I thank you for this information; and if you will undertake to procure me a private interview with Baron Wildenhaim——

MR. ANHALT. Why private? However, I will venture to take you for a short time from this place, and introduce you; depending on your innocence, or your repentance—on his conviction in your favour, or his mercy towards your guilt. Follow me. [_Exit._

FREDERICK. [_following_]. I have beheld an affectionate parent in deep adversity.—Why should I tremble thus?—Why doubt my fortitude, in the presence of an unnatural parent in prosperity? [_Exit._