title: The sin of st. Hulda ...
text: o\^ ' %'^-\o^ V^^*\/ V^'^^^' .^ ^0 ^^ •„ *J* yt^fr *■ ^iK'awwk^ <• A. /v ♦ft THE SIN OF ST. HULDA OR LOVE AND FAITH AN ORIGINAL PLAY IN FOUR ACTS BY G. STUART OGILVIE ^- it- " And faith, Creating what it feigned." — Shelley. RAHWAY, N. J. THE MERSHON CO. 1896 K -^r.^^ Copyright, 1896, BY G. STUART OGLIVIE. CHARACTERS. Heinric, Baron of Mindenburg. ■Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. John Knipperdolling, Burgomaster of Mindenburg. KONRAD, the Printer, NiKAULAS, the Vintner, Hermann, the Bootmaker, )- Councillors of Mindenburg. Franz, the Butcher, | I Stortebeker, the Brewer, J Manteuffel, KnipperdoUing's brother-in-law. Joachim, Ulric, George, Ernst, Maximilian, Tapster at the " Golden Goose." Citizen, Soldiers, Burghers, Citizens, etc., etc.. >- Heinric's friends. Leisse, I V Courtesans. Marte, ) Friederike, Hostess of the " Golden Goose." St. Hulda. Burghers' Wives — Children, etc., etc. THE SIN OF ST. HULDA. ACT I. The Call. ACT II. A Protestant. ACT III. " Splendide Mendax." ACT IV. The Cry of Imperfection. Scene. — The Free Imperial City of Mindenburg, Germany. Time. — 1552. Six months are supposed to elapse between Acts I, and II. and eight weeks between Acts III. and IV. d 1/. THE SIN OF ST. HULDA; OR, LOVE AND FAITH. ACT I. Scene I. Interior of " The Golden Goose.'' Evening. Large window, R. Arched entrance, R. U. E. Door, L. U. E. Fireplace and door L. Tables, chairs, benches, etc. Some Villagers, Soldiers, and Travellers discovered drinking. Max and Frieder- ike waiting on them. Laughter and clatter of tank- ards. Traveller [Rapping on table.'] What ho, there ! The score ! Max. At your service, sirs, at your service. [Goes to them. Enter a well-dressed Citizen, R. U. E. who crosses to Friederike. Stage begins to clear. Citizen. [Aside to Frieke.] Glaube. Frieke. [Curtseying, and signing to door, L. U. E.] You are late, sir. The brethren are all assembled. Cit. [Aside.'\ Does St. Hulda preach to-night ? Frieke. Ay, sir ; I hope to hear her myself, when we have closed the house. 2 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, Cit. Have a care — our enemies are many. \_Exit, L. U. E. Stage clears. Exeunt Sol- diers last, laughing and singing, R. U. E.. Stage clears, leaving Max and Frieke. Max. \Coining down.~\ Frieke ! Frieke. Well ? Max. Did you hear what the soldiers were saying? Frieke. Yes. They were agreeing I was the comeliest wench they'd seen since the wars ! Max. \Furious?\ Who said that? Which of 'em — eh ? Which of 'em ? Frieke. Max, you're jealous. Max. Jealous! No — but all soldiers are goats. Frieke. Hush ! You were a soldier yourself once^ Max, but what else were they saying ? Max. That Prince Otho is on the road to Halle to arrest St. Hulda. Frieke. Well, let him go to Halle, he'll not find her there. Max. But Mindenburg is on his line of march — if he were to call here, Frieke, what should we do ? Frieke. Nothing. Max. [Pointing to door, L. U. E.] But St. Hulda? Frieke. Hold your tongue, jay bird, hold your tongue that's all you've got to do. \Goes L. U. E.] Leave the rest to me. Max. Ah! \_Scratches his head.'] A widow thinks she knows everything, but she don't. [Knock off R. U. E. Frieke. [Starting.'] What's that ? [Huns down to Max. Max. [Calmly.] Nothing. [Knock repeated. Frieke. [Catching his arm.] Oh, Max — if it should be Otho, what shall we do ? Max. Why, hold our tongues, to be sure. [Strolls slowly up, L. U. E. [Kttock repeated. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 3 Frieke. I can't — I can't — I want to scream. [Max opens door. Enter Knipperdolling and Stortebeker. Knip. Why close your doors so early, pretty mouse ? Frieke. \Curtseying?\ So please you, sir. Stort. "Your Worship," dame, "Your Worship." Master Knipperdolling has been elected Burgo- master. Frieke. Oh ! {Curtseying^ Your Worship, par- don, your Worship. K^iip. {Chucking her under the chin.'] There's no offence, my pretty one. {To Max.] A bottle of Johannisberg. {Exit Max, L. We have friends that follow us and would have supper. Frieke. Supper, your Worship ? It grows late. Knip. And will be later yet before we part, for we are frolicsome, my mouse. A little fellowship, a little feasting. Oh! I can be Belshazzar an I choose — a little " clink-clink," and man becomes a brother, eh, Stortebeker? But what for supper? Stort. Something light and luring. Enter Max with wine. Knip. A sucking pig, eh ? with an onion in his belly and cherries in his mouth — eh ? Preserved cherries, mouse — dip 'em in treacle and temper 'em with brandy for the stomach's sake, eh? Stort. A dream — a dream ! Max. {Aside.] Nightmare, I hope! Frieke. {Curtseying?}^ I'll do my best, your Wor- ship. Knip. {Patting her cheeky Mouse ! [Max sets wine on table abruptly. Frieke. {Beckoning Max.] They will be here all night. We must warn the brethren ! 4 LOVE AND FAITH. [ACT i. Max. {Glancing at Knip.] Hog's flesh ! {Exeunt Frieke and M Ay., L. Knip. {Helping wim.l Stortebeker, " Our- selves ! " God bless us ! SUrt. Amen ! You've done it at last, your Worship ! Knip. A little burrowing, a little policy. - Oh ! I can be a politician an I choose — a little " Hum, hum," and here I am, the Burgomaster. Stort. Thanks to your good brother-in-law. Knip. {With sudden fervor.'] If I could commit Manteuff'el to six months' imprisonment I would die happy, Stort. He never forgave you for marrying his sister. Knip. Ha, ha ! a little romance — a little rhym- ing. Oh ! I can come the poet an I choose — a little " tra-la-la," — and the widow was mine. Stort. And the finest wool-trade in Mindenburg to boot. Knip. No, Stortebeker, no. Manteuffel manages that. It's "Brother, what o' the market?" and " Brother, what o' the books ? " and " Brother, what o' the balance ? " And if I need a groschen I have to go to " Brother " for it ; /, the Burgomaster of Mindenburg ! Stort. Ah, but you owe that honour to him. Knip. Wormwood ! wormwood ! I shall be his creature in the Rathhaus too. I dare not offend him and his party. Stort. The Purity Party ! Knip. Oh ! if I could commit Manteuffel for Stort. Hush ! Here come the others ! Enter Konrad, Nikolaus, and Franz, R. U. E. Knip. Welcome, gentlemen, welcome ! Be seated. Supper is on the way. A little sucking SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 5 pig with an onion in its belly and cherries in its mouth — will't suit the occasion? \Ge rural and greedy approval from Burghers, ivho sit at the table. Nik. That was a fine speech of yours from the chair, Burgomaster. Knip. A little eloquence, a little fire. Oh ! I can be a Cicero an I choose — a little " Phew," and the thing is done. Nik. What were your words, " Peace and purity, but no Protestors here ?" That was a fine thing to say. Knip. Politic, eh ? Profound, eh ? Nik. Ay, indeed, for Maurice of Saxony has imprisoned his Protestant father-in-law. Knip. [Aside.] Would it had been my Catholic brother-in-law. Nik. And declared for Order and Orthodoxy. Franz. They say the Emperor is using his Spanish soldiers to stamp out heresy in Germany. Nik. With Prince Otho at their head. Knip. Ah ! I remember when the Prince was only Earl the Bastard, eating the bread of charity at the late Baron's Schloss. Nik. And now he is the Emperor's own favorite, a hard man, a hard and cruel man. Franz. And it will go hard with the Protesters, or I'm no butcher. Nik. Well, well, we may have 'em here yet. Knip. Never! A little firmness, a little force. Oh ! I can be the Draco an I choose — a little ^' Ugh, ugh," and the matter's settled. Nik. I don't know — St. Hulda is at Halle. Franz. And who is St. Hulda? Knip. A dangerous, disturbing, disordering Pro- tester. Her. The people worship her. Nik. But wherefore " St. Hulda " ? 6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Franz, /don't know — ask the bookman here. Kon. 'Tis an old German myth. Hulda was the Saxon Diana, the gentle, pure moon-maiden whose kingdom lay in children's hearts — and those she loved the most she gathered i' the bud, setting their little souls as stars around her silver throne. Franz. Oh, that's it, is it ? But what about sup- per, eh ? Enter Manteuffel, R.' U. E. Enter Frieke and Max with supper, L. Onines. Ha! ha! it comes! it comes! Ma7i. {Down R.] Brother John, good evening ! Knip. \In weak voice.^ Brother Manteuffel — Avel- come ! Man. Does my sweet sister know of this? Kjiip. No, brother, but she will. Man. Yes, verily, she shall. Knip. Wilt sit with us at supper? Man. These carnal joys are not for us, my brother. The Protester is knocking at our gates — he charges us with corruption, concupiscence, and unclean living. He calls for reformation. He is right ! We need reformation from within ! Franz. We've nothing within to reform yet. Man. What have we to do with belly-lures? Sausages, herrings, prunes, and sauerkraut ! Oh^ shame of Baal Peor ! Put them away, my brother,, put them away, Knip. {Weakly?^ Put them away ! [Frieke removes thetn. Ma?i. A sucking pig! Shall we who fight for purity pander to a sucking pig? Remove the beast ; it's unclean ! Knip. \Weakly.^ Remove the sucking pig. [Frieke removes it. Man. Let us not tarry ! Thy loving wife awaits thee, brother. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 7 Knip. My loving wife ! {Finishes glass?^ God bless her ! Let us go ! \All rise. Man. What, go you too, gentlemen? Ah, better so, better so ! Purity, gentlemen, purity! Franz. Good night all ! Man. Come, my brother, home. Ghostly com- fort waits us there. Knip. I yearn for it, I yearn ! {Exeunt Burghers. Frieke. {Clapping hands.'] Oh, merciful deliver- ance ! I thought they would be here till day-dawn ! Clear, Max, clear ! {Max clears and exits with things, L. Enter Knipperdolling stealthily. Knip. Send not the reckoning home. I'll call myself to-morrow. Frieke. {Smiling.'] I understand, your Worship. Knip. {Approaching her.] Fie ! fie ! You are a sprightly creature. Frieke. Oh, your Worship, you frighten me ! Knip. {Arm round waist.] Mouse ! The Burgo- master is your friend. Frieke. Can I trust your Worship ? Knip. {Kissing her.] Aslamaman — Enter Max, L. — and a magistrate, I say — I said Magistrate — I would fain be thy Protector. Man. {Off?^ Purity, gentlemen, purity ! Knip. Perdition ! {Exit, R. U. E. Max. {To her fiercely.] Why did you let him kiss you ? Frieke. Will not soap and water rectify the sin ? Max. I hate you, and I've done with you forever. I'll to the wars again, and not come back till I am dead and buried ! 8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Frieke. Yes, go, Max, go and leave me to fight for the Cause as best I may! We are harboring St. Hulda at the risk of our lives. If it were known that she is at this moment preaching to the Brethren in yonder loft, my house would be for- feited and I should be thrown into gaol. You had better go, and that speedily, before we are arrested ! Max. Oh, call me a coward ! Why did you let him kiss you ? Frieke. How could I help it — an old man too ! Max. They are the worst ! Frieke. Bald-headed ! Max. A mark of the beast ! Frieke. And the priest. Max. Max. And last week I saw the Baron Heinric kiss you. Frieke. {Indignantly^ For the good of the house — and he's only a boy ! Max. A boy ! I believe he was a man before he cut his teeth! A wine-bibbing, wench-loving, law- breaking rake-helly, who respects neither God nor woman. Boy indeed ! But they're all boys or old men with you. Frieke. Yes — all except one. Oh, Maximilian, you've the heart of a lion, but the head of a sheep — sit down and be sane. {She sits, and Max sits by her and tries to take her hand. I said be sane ! Now, Hulda Max. St. Hulda! Ah, God bless her! Audit was you who brought her here ! Where did you meet her, Frieke ? Frieke. Oh, long before I knew you or Minden- burg. Eight years ago, come Christmas time, I found her wandering in the snow and brought her unto Luther. Poor child, poor child ! a girl in years, a woman in her suffering. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 9 Max. Suffering? What do you mean, Frieke ? Frieke. \_Conftised,'\ Mean? How? Why, her father and her brother's were leaders of the Peas- ants' Secret League, They were betrayed by treachery, and hung before her eyes. But that's a secret. Max — you'll never breathe it to a soul ? Max. I'd slit my tongue before I said a word that might cause Hulda pain. Frieke. The past is done with, but what about the future ? Otho hunts for her hard by, and the new Burgomaster threatens here. Max. Bide events, bide events! St. Hulda — Heaven bless her ! — hasn't been amongst us a week yet, and already the common folk are hers to a man. Before long we'll have the Councillors on our side,, and maybe the Burgomaster too. Frieke. [ Touching her cheek.~\ By this same token. Max. Max. \_Grimly.'] And the spendthrift Baron Heinric, eh ? Frieke. \_Laughing.~\ I fear he's past salvation. But as for the others, who knows ? St. Hulda would tell us to have faith, that is what she always preaches — it is the text of her sermon to-night. Let us go in and hear her. [^Up L. U. E.] But mind, I will not have you hold my hand — till sermon time — it is disturbing. Come! \^Loud knocks and horn off R. U. E. Frieke runs to and Max clings to his arm. What's that ? Max ! Max ! 'Tis Otho ! \Knocks repeated. Max opens the door, and enter Ernst, blowing horn, and followed by Ulric Ernst. Supper, supper for six. Ulric. The Baron Heinric has been wounded by a bear, and will rest awhile on his way to the Schloss. Quick! here he comes — wine and supper, quick! S^Exit Max. lo LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Enter Heinric, carried sedan chair-wise, by Joachim and Georg. The friends whoop and cheer noisily. Hein. Nay, set me down, good friends, for I can walk. I am but bruised, not broken ; the only- plaster that I need is supper, and that badly ! {^Sees Frieke.] Ha ! ha ! my little mother. Frieke. \To him, curtseying^ Oh, my lord ! you are not hurt ? Hein. Just enough for the gossip, but not enough for the grave-digger, little mother. How fares it with you ? Frieke. Well, so please my lord. Enter Max with wine. Hein. But still wearing of the weeds! {Takes wine from Max.] Here's to a new true man for thee ! Frieke. Once bit, twice shy, my lord. Hein. Twice kissed, thrice bold, little mother! \Kisses her ; bus. for MAX.] And now set us a supper in your cosy closet. Frieke. Oh, my lord, I fear our larder, for we did not look for noble company, and the hour is late. Hein. Tut, tut, little mother! we bring the best of sauce — a hunter's appetite. Away ! \_Exeunt Max and Frieke. Ulric. {Producing dice.l And while we wait, I'll have one throw with thee. Hein. I'm with thee, Ulric. {They begin to play. Enter Liese and Marte, R. U. E., laughing and chattering. Ernst. {Suddenly rousing?^ Ha, ha, the little angels ! SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. ii Ulric. [Aside, disgusted^ Bah ! These women ! Love and hazard never did agree ! Hein. Liese ! Marte ! Liese. La! But we heard you were a-dying ! [Stands by him. Heiti. [Shakes dice and throws laughingly?^ Not yet! [Wins.'l Liese, you bring me luck ! Ernst. [Solemnly beckoning to Marte.] Come ! [Marte sits by Ernst. Liese. [Laughing?^ I always bring my true love luck! [Caresses him. [ They play in silence. They are cheating you, Heinric ; Ulric lost fifty crowns to your last throw. Ulric. Do not interrupt the game, baggage ! it confuses me. Whose is the throw? [ They play again in silence. Liese. Marte, that crown was mine. Marte. It was my stake. Enter Otho, R. U. E., with Officer and two Soldiers unobserved. He signs to them to be silent and stands watching the gamblers in the red firelight. Liese. I put it there ! Marte. You lie — it's mine ! Liese. [Passional ely.~\ Give it me ! Marte. I won't ! Liese. Cheat, cheat, I'll have it ! [Dashes at her?\ [Confusion. Men rise and restrain them. Hein. Girls, girls, you are for love, not war! Marte. She called me^ Liese. She stole my Hein. Peace, peace ! Otho. You are gay to-night. Hein. Karl ! Ulric. Prince Otho ! ' [All rise — panse. Hein. [Confused.'] Your Highness ! I forgot, sir 12 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Otho. {Taking his hand?t^ No, you only remem- bered your sometime playfellow? [ They bring a chair forward. Otho sits and waves Heinric, C, to chair beside him j others standi Ulric. {Fawning^ Welcome once more to Min- denburg, your Highness. When we hear from time to time of your Highness's illustrious exploits and splendid career, we are very proud to think your happy childhood was spent within our gates, though doubtless your Highness forgets us now. Otho. \prily^ I remember you, Count Ulric,.. very well. Have you a kerchief? Ah! perfumed, and of lace. You were always dainty, Count. I remember once at the full board you made a pretty jest at my coarse linen. 'Twas clean and neatly mended, and at the time I thought the laugh unjust \ Ulric. {Confused?^ I — I — forget the incident, your Highness. Otho. Ah ! I do not. Karl the Bastard never forgets — his friends. But see, my mud-stained boots disgrace this gentle company. I pray you look to it. Ulric. I'll go fetch a clout, sir. Otho. {Giving kerchief back?^ I never use coarse linen now ; pray you take this. {He stretches out his boot. Ulric kneels and ivipes it and throws the kerchief away r[ Nay, Count, pick it up; pick it up and wear it as a keepsake of a prince's memory ! {To Heinric.^ But tell me of yourself. It was only the news of your accident that stopped me on my march to Halle. I heard that you were badly hurt Hein. A bruise, sir — a mere bruise. But you must see the boar — the biggest ever brought to Mindenburg. We'll have him shown at supper, sir, if you will honor us.' Otho. Nay, Heinric, I must on to Halle. Hein. So urgent, sir? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 13 Otho. On the Emperor's own quest. I hope ere sunrise to have arrested the mad preacher, Hulda! Hein. Is she so dangerous? Otho. If I can but lay hands on her she'll trouble us no more! The Emperor has sworn to crush this damnable dissent throughout all Germany. Hein. We shall not trouble your Highness much at Mindenburg. Gents. {Together?^ No, no; we need no reforma- tion here ! Otho. {Drily^ So I see; yet, gentlemen, I would not boast ! This restless fever of reform is as catch- '"^^ as the plague, and takes strange victims. Know you Lddy Bertha of Berlin? S^All laugh. Hein. Who did not know her, sir? First in the field, fairest at the Court, boldest at the dice, free with her favours as the summer sun, the maddest, merriest, most daring dame in Saxony. Otho. [Dri/j/.'] Ay, she has been bitten ! Gents. What ? Hein. A Reformer ? Otho. Worse — reformed ! A pervert of St. Hulda ; and she's but one of thousands who have caught this itch of reformation and have found a "con- scious heart." Hein. Now,, may the good Lord keep that " con- scious heart " from our dear maids at Mindenburg when next we go a-Maying. Georg. Amen ! Amen ! Ernst. [Aside.l I have a conscious stomach which tells me it's supper time. Hein. [Latighing.l A woman with a " conscious heart " can be no friend to man ! What says your Highness ? Otho. If this derelict craft of love may speak, it has outgrown your welcome wench. I owe every- thing to this same " conscious heart." Hein. How so, sir? 14 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, Otho. You remember the pleasant plot which I unmasked ten years ago ? Hem. Well, sir, we seemed on the brink of another rising as bloody as that of '24. Otho. That discovery was the turning point in my career, for it brought me into the imperial presence. I was a twelve-month tracing out that plot, living amongst the peasants as Sigbert the Fowler, one of themselves. It was a strange life. Hein. But the conscious heart, sir? Otho. Ah, yes ! While staying close to Nurem- berg, I met a little peasant with a conscious hearty the sweetest, sauciest, most saintly little Protestant that ever prayed with tears against temptation, yet laughed to meet it at the lychgate after church. The old Eve was stronger than the new Evangel. I won that heart, and it was she who told me of the plot. Hein. Who was she, sir? Otho. The daughter of old Kunz, the ploughman,, leader of the Peasants' Secret League. Her name was Katchen. Hein. What became of her ? Otho. I often wonder. I would I knew ! After her father and her two brothers had been seized and — and put away, I sent for her. She had fled,, and we could find no trace of her. Poor Katchen ! \Rising^^ Gentlemen, a parting toast — to " Katchen of the Conscious Heart." Hein. [Aside.] Poor Katchen ! {All drink. Otho. Heinric, one word with you. Gentle- men, good-night ! [At a sign from Otho, Officers and Soldiers all exeunt^ bowing, except Otho and Heinric. Trust not these harpies and these harlots ! Hein. Sir, they are my friends. Otho. [Drily.] Ah ! I hear your fortune is much, pinched. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. i§ Hein. \LaiigJmig?^ Pinched, sir ! 'Tis squeezed to the last drop. OtJio. \Laying hand on him.^ I have never for- gotten you were good to me. Hein. No, no ! 1 loved you, Karl ! OtJio. Ay, you loved Karl the Bastard. You see that wound is healed, and I can show it with "a laugh ; but in those days it hurt, it hurt ! Mine was a cruel schooling, Heinric — the covert sneer, the contemptuous patronage, the supercilious charity of little men like Ulric and his provincial peers. It hardened me, it hardened. But you — you always treated " the Bastard " as your equal. Hein. No, Karl, as my superior. You knew the lure to tempt the freckled trout ; you knew the snare to lift the greedy pike ; you'd call the curlew, whistle plover from their circling flight ; you knew the otter's lair, the eagle's nest, the chamois' haunt — in all the mysteries of wood and water-ways you were my tutor and my king. Otho. {Laughs?^ And now, instead of birds and beasts and fishes, I'll teach you how to trap their master — man. Hein. [^Laughing.^ I was never a checkerman. In our winter-fireside games you always gave me a queen, and a beating ! Otho. We'll not play against each other ; we'll play against the world. Wilt come "with me to Court? Hein. To Court, Karl ? Otho. Ay, to Court. We'll climb Fame's ladder side by side. Hein. Give me time to think, sir. Otho. No, I will fetch You after Halle. You shall come with me. And serving me shall serve your own regard, \_Rises. Heinric, we stand in roaring times when men i6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. May carve their names across the Continents. Our Germany has quickened with new life, Her pangs come sharper with each hour ; None know what her fierce labour may bring forth, But at a nation's yearning time the wise Man plays the midwife to his own design. And mine is {Breaks off with a laugh. First to catch this saintly eel. Twice have my fingers closed on her to find That she is gone! But not again ! I know That's she at Halle ; if she breaks this way, Take her, good Heinric, take and hold her fast ! He in. {Laughing?^ Saints are not of my sort, but if she comes, I'll cleave to her with all the Devil's grip. Otho. Do, and your future is assured ! {Exit Otho, R. U. E. Heinric looks after him. Hein. A good friend and a grim enemy ! I would rather serve than cross you. Prince. Ho, Ulric, Georg ! Enter Ulric Ernst, Georg, Joachim, Liese, a«^ Marte, L. Drink to my reformation ; the Prince would make a courtier of me. Joac. Has he gone ? Liese. La, how he frightened me ! He looked as ugly as the lazar house ! Marte. And as cold as the grave ! Ulric. Bastard ! Hein. \Ciip in hand?\^ A full purse, a proud position. Farewell to this provincial poverty! Hail, Royal Patronage! Toast me, friends, my fortune's made. {All drink. Enter Max, L. He steals up towards door, L. U. E. Hi! Max! SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 17 Max. \_Ttir Jiiiig co?if used. ~\ My lord! Hein. Why is not supper served ? Max. It is on the way, my lord, [Aside.'] I must warn the brethren ; if they raise the even song before we get these roysterers away, we are all lost. Enter Frieke, L. Frieke. My lord, the supper waits. [Applause and general laughter. Hem. Good news ! Come, girls, who'll queen the board ? Liese. {To him, R.] Me, me ! Marie. [To him, L.] Me, me ! Hein. Me, me ! Me, me! Judgment of Paris! But I'll take you both. Black Beauty and White Wickedness ! [Takes their hands.] To supper all ! [Hymn heard off. All pause. Max and Frieke look at one another j bus. Frieke. [Aside.] The hymn ! And Otho scarce beyond the yard. They'r^e lost. Hein. Friederi.ke, what is that ? Frieke. That ! What, my lord ? Hein. That ! Joac. 'Tis one of Luther's hymns. Georg. Reform has reached us e'en at Minden- burg. Ulrtc. [Pointing to D. L. U. E.] And they are there ! Hein. Friederike ! Ernst. [Catching up hunting horn.] I'll blow them such a trump they'll think it is the last ! Hein. No, no ! Grace before meat — let's join the Gospellers ! What say you, merry nuns and Bully acolytes ? [General laughter and assent. Frieke. My lord, my lord, these poor folk are in earnest. i8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Hein. {^Laughing.'] Earnest, little mother! ear- nest ! So am I ! Are the Protestants to do all the protesting ? By Bacchus, no ! We'll protest against this gloomy righteousness, this conscious heart, this ghostly hypochondria ! We'll preach 'em a sermon \Jiands on womeit] in black and white straight from the Book of Life, with old Ernst there as an awful illustration, the Death's Head of Debauch ! Come, boys, let's shame these murky moths with our gay butterflies ! Whoop ! [Sings.'] There's a pricket in the thicket, Rubbing velvet off his palms, Him we'll follow with a holloa, And the hunter's loud alarms ! [Dances off with the two wotneti, followed by the rest laughing and singing.. Frieke. We're lost, we're lost ! [Exeunt Frieke and M.ax, folloiving them. [Luther s hymn louder during dark change to Scene II. Scene II. Interior of a bare, whitewashed loft, with door and a few steps L., and a rude platfor^n C, on which St. Hulda is discovered, hmriediately behind her head, back C, is a bull's eye window, which gives the effect of an aureole round her head. In frofit and round her stands a motley crowd, some richly dressed, some in rags, raising Luther's hymn, the last bars of which cease as the lights go tip. Enter Heinric, Y,., followed by Frieke. The rest of the party peer in at the doorway. The congregation kneels as St. Hulda delivers the final benediction. St. Hulda. So peace go with you, and the stead- fastness And quiet exaltation born of Faith, Faith is Man's one necessity ; all else SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 19 A complement to that essential grace. For as a father to his growing son Shall suit advice to each development, So it may be God's messages are sent To march with human apprehensiveness, And the world sloughs its old belief to find An ampler creed beneath. Belief Is but the body of our thought, and mortal Faith is the soul, th' immortal lambent link Between Life's meaning and Death's mystery ; Words shall not fashion it nor works ensure. What man can tell his passion for his maid, What woman speak her yearnings for her babe? These things are felt, not phrased, and so with Faith, Faith is the Pharos of our pilgrim race, Lost on the plains of Darkness and Dismay. Be yours that light — a pin-point in the dark. But steadfast as a star it shall not set. Till o'er the beetling hill-tops which have reared Fixed limitations to man's finite reach. The sluice of Dawn be lifted, and the flood Of God's illumination palpitates Above us, in us, of us — and we know ! Dear Lord, I pray thee give Thy people Faith ! [A burst of mocking laughter from the party at the door, which Frieke hastily shuts in their faces. Heinric sta7ids transfixed. Frieke^ [Creeping to his elbow.'] My lord, you'll not betray us to the Prince? Hein. [With his eyes still on HULDA]. It is Frieke. St. Hulda ! CURTAIN. END OF ACT I. 20 LOVE AND FAITH. [act IK ACT II. Six months are supposed to have elapsed. Scene : A room in the " Golden Goosey All siveet and fresh, but very simple. Bright summer morning. Long bow window, back looking into street. Door i?ita street, L. C. B. Doors into house, R, and R. U. E. Window, L. Table and chairs, R. Settee, L. Large oak chest, C. B, St. YixiiAiX discovered at spinning wheel. Frieke busying herself at oak chest and singing. Frieke's Song. A soldier grim from the war is home, And there's spring in the apple tree. A maiden laughs through the pink-lipped foam That is splashing the apple tree. In vain he seeks her heart to storm, She's hedged by blossoms white and warm, The flower must fall ere fruit shall form In the lap of the apple tree. Frieke. My heart is full of song-birds this bright morn And you are silent, sister. Why so sad ? [ To her affectionately. St. Hulda. My thoughts are with the snows of other days, What time you found me Frieke. Hush ! Put it away t Put it away, dear sister, it is past. St, H. Oh ! but this cank'ring sense of secrecy, Of flash pretence, is eating out my heart. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 21 It cripples me ! It quells, e'en when the word Wells up in glad conviction, and I feel My people's heart beat pulse for pulse with mine. Satan will touch my elbow, whispering, "Tell them the past. Tell them of Nuremburg. Tell them thou'st lived in sin. Tell them the truth. Saint Hypocrite." Frieke. What were the blessed words We read last night at pray'r ? " Neither do I Condemn thee — go and sin no more." St. H. At times I long to stand up in the market place And cry the truth ! Frieke. But Luther, knowing all. Still sent you forth to preach the word. He made You promise St. H. Aye, I hear his voice to-day, Deep with the dignity of tears unshed. As it swept through me in his dying hours : " Promise to keep thy peace. Not for thy sake, But for the weaker brethren. We fight \Luthers hymn heard sung by children in distance. Not for the strong, but feeble. Keep thy peace." He stood so near to God, I promised him, And yet Frieke. You'll keep that promise, sister. Hark! \_Hymn louder. The brethren greet you on your birthday! \Hymn louder. St. H. The children ! \Rims to the door, L. C. B.,. and looks off.^ Yea, all the school — each with a bunch of hedge-row bloom tight in their tiny hands; and all wear favours like thine own. Frieke. I made them all, and call them " Faith's Favours." The Brethren will march the streets to-day with them, to show that they are Hulda's folk. 22 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. SL H. How pretty ! I must kiss you for the thought. \Kisses her.'] And here they come. Come in — come in ! {^Enter Children and Villagers, all wearing favours, also Max, C. B. The Children run up and prese?it their Utile posies of flowers. The Villagers ratige themselves at back. The Children dance a country dance before Hulda, who watches them with delight., then suddenly , like a child, she herself joins in the measure. Serio-comic dance for Hulda and a tiny Child, zvhich ends in Hulda's catching her up and kissing her. Others laugh and applaud. Voices. " Heaven bless you, Hulda ! " " The Lord send you many happy birthdays." " Health and happiness to you ! " St. H. \Moved?^ Thanks, thanks, good friends ! Max. So please you, dear Saint, some of us have a few trifles for your kind acceptance. Here be €ggs and butter, a country cheese, a chicken, a chap, — home cured, — and good white bread. \^The CiTiz^ns file past, giving their little presents. Pri7tter. {Forward, giving hook.'] With the author's best wishes. St. H. {Reading.] " Chats with the Devil, or Evenings in Hell." Is this for me? Printer. Indeed it is! I wrote and printed it all myself. It is a rousing allegory, full of shocks and horrors. It ought to sell, but it don't. If you could mention it in your next sermon it might be helpful to the Brethren. You will find the printer's name on the title page. St. H. Oh, yes, I see ! I'll not forget. Citizen. Here's a bottle of treacle water, lady. Made it myself. A certain cure for corns, warts, bunions, and flat feet. Maybe you suffer from such complaint ? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 23 St. H. Not just at present. Citizen. \CrestfallenP\ Oh, I am sorry ! {Bright- ening?\ But you may, you know. The flesh is heir to all ills — you may. I should keep it handy. St. H. Indeed I will! [Bootmaker thrusts a pair of shoes into Hulda's hands and sidles off. For me? Boot. \_N adding^ I made 'em. St. H. S^Putting on first one and then the otlier, walks proudly up and doivn.~\ How grand ! They feel familiar as old friends! How guessed you so exactly ? Boot. Dame Friederike stole me this. Yfroduces old shoe. St. H. Barabbas ! Boot. I'd like — if 'tis no offence — I'd like to keep it. St. H. It's worn out. Boot. {Putting it in breast^ Aye — walking heavenwards ! Old Woman. An' here be a little something I ha' worked wi' my own hands to keep 'ee warm come Christmas time. [ Unfolds a woollen cape of hideous colors and design. St. H. [Aghast.^ How — how wonderful ! Old W. Aye, aye, I chose the wools myself, an' a nice large pattern, as my sight ain't what it was fifty years ago. St. H. \_Putting it on.^ It's very soft and warm. Old W. \_Proudly.'] Aye, aye ! I always wear the like myself. {Looking at St. Hulda dubiously.'] Somehow, I don't know — somehow it looks a little gay. You don't think them colors seem owdacious, do you? St. H. {Kissing her.] Fear not, dear mother — your work defies improvement. Frieke. Now, neighbours, we've all our work to do, and so has Sister Hulda. Make good days. 24 LOVE AND FAITH. [act m Voices. [Going.'] " Aye, aye, good-day ! " " God bless you, sister," " Heaven send you many happy birthdays," etc., etc. St. H. Dear friends, I know not how to thank you. Thank you all. [Villagers go off, L. C. B. Children crowd round her. And you, my little ones, I'll wear your flowers at school to-night. Till then — good-by ! Children. Good-by, good-by, dear Mistress Hulda ! \_Exeunt Children, L. C. B. St. H. Well, Sister Frieke, and what news ? Frieke. The town Council sits this morning. St. H. I know. I have been bidden to attend and learn their decision — whether I am to be suffered to remain or be expelled from Minden- burg. Frieke. If the council listens to the people's voices, your safety is secured. St. H. I fear our enemies will prevail. Frieke. Nay, thy friends are just as numerous. They say it depends upon the Burgpmaster. St. H. The Burgomaster — " unstable as water." Frieke. Oh, there is hope ! The Burgomaster hath professed great admiration for me. Max. \_At back — sardonically?^ Ha! ha! That's quaint ! Frieke. You! \Turning?\ There, lazy-bones! get you to your taps at once ! Max. If that Knipperdolling comes here again, he'll leave feet foremost — for I'll kill him ! St. H. Have patience. Max, have patience I {Taking favour off Frieke's breast and plaining it on to Max.] There ! Faith's favour : wear it as a token you trust her. Max. Ah ! Sister, you're an angel, and it's easy enough to believe in you. But she — she's a widow — and one's never quite sure. I do try to be SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 25 one of the faithful — indeed I do, dear Sister, but the faithfullest of the faithful hates to be fooled. \^Exit Max. Frieke. I cannot tell why the good Lord made men and turkey-cocks at all — there's no peace when they're about. You see the mood Max is in ; I daren't tell him the Burgomaster is coming here this morning, and that he's written poetry to me. Listen ! {Produces letter and reads.^ " To the widow of widows " — that's me ! " My heart's afire with sweet desire And passion most disastrous. Oh, Frieke, why may I not die Upon thy bosom alabastrous ! " That's a pretty word, alabastrous ! I like it. " I will be at thy private door at 12 o' the dial. — John." \Laughs, and tosses letter on to the table ^^ And so will I, and so will I — only I must get Max out of the house. St. H. Oh, Frieke ! Master KnipperdolHng has a wife. Frieke. Fear not. He shall return home un- harmed, but I'll have his vote, for the Burgo- master's vtine ! {Exits laughing, R. St. Hulda busies herself with presents. St. H. My people's gifts ! And I once cried aloud There is no good on earth, no God on high ! [Heinric appears at windotv, B. C, with flowers. {Reading on a present?^ " To St. Hulda." Ah ! no saint, but a sad woman ! Heinric, entering L. C, comes down. Hein. Alone, and on this day? St. H. Heinric, my lord ! 26 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Hein. {Giving flowers?\^ With birthday congratu- tions. St. H. [ With cry of pleasure.'] Oh, how good ! And you remember'd — Hein. That you loved the best Of all the flowers the starry Edelweis. I gathered it at dawn-time on the tops. Wear it, sweet saint, it comes from snowlands pure And lofty as thy soul. [HULDA turns. Why wilt not wear it ? St. H. Not as a saint. Ah ! which of us has right To such a name ? Hein. Then wear it, Modesty, Not for the good in thee, but for the good Thou callest forth in us. Thine influence Sent me to seek the Edelweis on high. St. H. I'll wear it at my heart in memory Of Mindenburg. \Sits at spinning wheel. Hein. Know you that it is six months Since first you came ? St. H. Six months ! So long as that ? Hein. So short as that, and yet it seems to me As if it never could have been but thus. Si. H. It was midwinter then. Hein. And now the warmth Of summer skies. St^-H. And after flower, the fruit ; Then frost again. Hein. Not while St. Hulda shines. St. H. But she will have her passing like the rest. Hein. Hulda, thou wilt not leave us? St. H. Who shall say > There is a story which comes back to me From childhood's treasury. My father's way Was on the deep, the captain of a ship, Who, coming home would love to cosset me Upon his knee before the winter fire. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 27 And tell me stories of preposterous Adventures on far seas. And of all tales I most loved one that told how, after squalls And tempests for six days, his battered ship Lay rolling in the furrows of the gale — For tho' the wind had swooned to breathless calm,. The shaken seas could not forget their moil. My father had relieved the helm, seeing the crew Were worn with sleepless nights, dispirited Unto the verge of open mutiny — Fresh water too ran low, and the salt meats Bred scurvy and foul sores. " Let us put back," The sailors cried. " Death is'our port ahead." And as they lay adrift in misery, The sport of tides, a wonder came to pass, For on the spray-splashed deck — no man knew whence — There dropped a solitary storm-blown bird, A wet-winged wanderer and sorry as themselves. One sailor madeto kill it, with an oath. Out of sheer spleen, but father caught the waif And warmed it at his* heart and gave it food. And at the setting of the murky sun He cast the feathered pilgrim in the air, And lo ! it circled thrice around the ship, Then settled on the mast, and lifting up Its breast, burst out in passionate melody, A song so sweet and clear, the watch awoke Their weary mates to listen. And one said, " It is from home." Another, " 'Tis from God I " And all in whisper, " 'Tis a miracle ! " And through the livelong night the small bird sang Her starlit song — and harps were in the air — Yet when the morning broke the bird was gone — But courage fell upon the listless crew, And on the seventh day they sighted land. Hein. A fairie tale. What brings the fable home? 28 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Si. H. I am a bird of passage. Hein. Dullard I ! You mean that Mindenbu^g was as the ship? St. H. And you the captain who received the bird. Hein. \To her.'\ Which will not leave us? St. H. Not before day breaks. Hein. And then ? St. H. The swallow must go further north, Preaching the word of summer on the text Of spring. Hein. Nay, but e'en swallows build their nests At last ! St. H. In divers pi'aces. One will find Her rest beneath the roof of man : another God's house affords the shelter of His eaves. ^Seeing his face. Nay look not sad. Hein. {Taking her hand tenderly ?\ Hulda ! St. H. [ Withdrawing her hand hastily.'] My lord ! I mean My hands are rough and scarred with needle-frays. {Looking up smiling. Your saint is but woman after all. Hein. The more saintly for her sex. I hate To see those toilsome scars. St. H. I work to live. Hein. But why such menial work? How many times Have all the Brethren beseeched thee take Some contribution for your daily needs ? St. H. {Smiling.'] A Jewish gentleman once broke his nails Tent making. Hein. Nature never meant the vine Of womanhood to carry its own weight Alone, It can but crawl the earth, Stretching its wistful tendrils to the weeds. Give it support, and lo ! it will o'ertop SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 29 The sterile standard with a crown of frond, And compliment of fruit. SL H. But if the vine Should choose support, deeming as heart of oak What is but touch-wood, so that when the vine Be heavy with its fruit her standard snaps And fails her, and she finds the cluster's wealth. Which she had raised in joy to Heaven, dashed To Earth ? Hein. She knows by instinct, brave from base. St. H. Not always — till too late ! Hein. [To her.'] Ah ! fear not that! I know I am unworthy, but not false. I would not fail thee though we stood alone Accursed by all the world. St. H. [Moving^ My lord — my lord Hein. Raise not that futile barrier. Were I A king, thou still wouldst be my crown ! [Catches her hand. St. H. Let me go ! Hein. Give me thyself in holy custody, Give me the right to fend thee through- the world, To bear thy burdens, fight thy fight through life, Through death till God's deliverance, to wear Thee as my wife. St. H. [Breaks away^ You know not what you ask — It is impossible ! Heiji. Impossible ! St. H. You could not love me if you knew Hein. Thou lovest Another? St. H. There is no such thing as love For such as me. Hein. Thou meanest thou hast a vow ? St. H. Aye so, a vow ! A vow ! Hein. The Devil's vow That would deny the love that God afifirms. 30 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Think'st thou the virgin purer than the. wife ? Think'st thou the mother lower than the maid ? Or barrenness more beautiful than birth ? Thou knowest it is not. St. H. Love is not for me. Hein. Prize it or spurn it as the worthless thing It is, my love is thine, as I am thine. Thou'st called me from the filthy byre of swine, The wallow of indulgence and gross deeds ; Thou'st turned my feet toward the hill, my face Toward the light. Thou'st called me and I've come. God sent thee to me. Send me not away. \Catching her hand. St. H. [Breaking aivay.l Go ! Go ! You know not what you ask me. Go! I am not what you think me. As you love me, Leave me, nor look upon my face again ! Hein. Hulda, Hulda! What have I said? St. H. You take Advantage of my weakness. I am worn, O'erstrung, my strength is squandered in attempts To comfort others, and you come to me — You whom I looked to as my guard and guide — And tempt me break my vow ! Go, leave me ! Go! Hein. [Pause.] Hulda, forgive me ! Take a vow for vow Until thy work and mine shall be complete. Until the Cause, now cradled on thy breast. Hath grown beyond the need of motherhood, Until the hour that Germany is free, I will not speak to thee of this again. St. H. Heinric! Hein. [To ker.] Thou canst trust me ? St. H. [Giving hand.'] Until death ! Hein. Nay, Till victory, and then SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 31 St. H. No, never that. What has been has been, though God always is. [ With renewal of passion. Oh, but I do deceive thee. Hear the truth It stifles me — turn from me, for I am — I am — Heinric, help ! YPuts handkerchief to her mouth and falls. Heiii. \jC ate king her ?^ Hulda? Blood! \Carries her to chair. Speak, Hulda — speak ! St. H. {Recovering, but half -unconscious?^ Father, I did not know ! No, no, don't curse me ! Brothers, speak for me ! You loved him too. You brought him to our home. 