The legend is, that this Bertha of a former age, was the wife of the Lord of Borotin; and being detected in adultery, was slain by the dagger of her husband. The husband, however, did not suspect that his son was the issue of sinful love; and his lands and his name descended to a bastard-from whom the present noble race are sprung. In memory of this domestic tragedy, the dagger by which the lady had fallen, is still hung by the wall of the apartment in which they are assembled: while the troubled spectre itself is compelled to wander about the scenes of her former guilt, till the last of the race that has through her deceit become possessed of the honours of the house of Borotin, shall have died. Whenever any accident of misery or death is about to befall that house, the spectre becomes visible-rejoicing that a step towards her own repose had been gained; yet shuddering and lamenting, with the feelings of a mother, over the sufferings that come upon her children. There is something_too Fatigued and weary Jaromir retires to his chamber, but he is disturbed there, in a manner for which our readers may already be prepared. An hundred mouths make horrible grimaces the dark and deserted hall, we hear Bursting from his bed-chamber into him exclaiming thus: Jar. What, has all hell broke loose, and all on me Alone its malice pour'd? Dire grinning ghosts Those accents on the lips that gave them birth. (Listening again.) "Heavenly powers! Assist us!" Aye, indeed; assist us, Heaven! "And save us !" From my heart I join the prayer, awful to be dwelt upon, in this deep Save us! Oh! from myself may Heaven protect and thrilling dream of superstitionbut surely there is poetry enough in it, to redeem every fault it may be charged with. The Count and his daughter retire;-and after a pause, Jaromir her lover, rushes panting into the hall, a broken sword all bloody in his hand-the Steward follows him, and learns that he has just been assaulted by a band of robbers in the forest, and with difficulty escaped. Upon this the Count and his daughter return, and Borotin is informed by the mode of their address, that he sees before him the deliverer of Bertha. The Count immediately proclaims his gratitude and his approbation of their love. Jar. I stand astonished, and ashamed. So should we feel. Our gratitude so mean, Jar. Noble! Oh! could I But say that it had cost me aught-some wound For a remembrance. Oh! it vexes me Most deeply, such a prize to have retriev'd, Count. Nay, modesty becomes A youth; but let him not thus undervalue Ber. Believe him not, my father! He loves to slight himself: and long ago, I knew this of him. Oft he lay before me, And kiss'd my feet, and with pain broken voice, Weeping, he cried aloud, "My dear, dear, Bertha, I am not worthy of thee!"-He unworthy! Of me unworthy! Jar. Bertha! And soon after ends the first act. me! Thou sweet pure being, I can stay no longer; 1 must from hence, and fly to her; fall down Prostrate, and in her sacred presence gain Freedom and peace from Heaven. Aye, she, indeed, O'er such a visitant may offer up Her orisons as o'er a lifeless frame; 'Tis I, dear Bertha, frown not, (The ghost steps forward from the door, which closes behind her, and repeats the same gestures.) Must I go? Nay, but I cannot, cannot, while I view thee (Going towards her.) Ha! Bertha, my own Ber tha! (As he approaches her, the ghost extends her right arm, and points with her finger.) (Jar. fall ing back with a cry of terror.) Ha! Ber. (From within.) Heard I not Jaromir? (At the first sound of Bertha's voice, the ghost sighs, and retires slowly. Before she disappears, Bertha comes forward, but without observing the ghost, looking only at Jaromir.) Ber, (With a light.) What, art thou here? and Jar. (Following the ghost with his eye, with outstretched arms.) There-there-there there! Jar. (Stepping back.) Here and there, how's this? Nowhere and everywhere? Ber. Good Heavens! explain! What are you thus? Jar. By Heaven, I am a man; And "What man dares I dare!" Even let the devil Ber. (Hastening towards him) My Jaromir? Jar. (Stepping back.) Away! I know thee, beauteous form!-Should I approach, Thou would'st dissolve into thin air, my breath Would thee annihilate. Ber. (Embracing him.) Nay, could a phantom Embrace thee thus; or could a wandering shadow Thus look upon thee? Feel, it is thy Bertha That lies within thine arms. Jar. 'Tis so, indeed. I feel thy warm heart beating, and thy breath The Count comes in while they are yet talking in this manner, and having heard the cause of the noise that has disturbed him-he utters these words too full of meaning: Ha! so they begin The alarm that has occurred, renders the whole party unwilling to return to their own apartments, and they remain conversing in the hall, when suddenly there is heard a loud knocking at the gate of the castle, and Jaromir betrays a perturbation that astonishes Bertha. He reassures her, however, and the Steward introduces a captain, who, as it appears, has been engaged with a band of robbers in the forest-the band has been vanquished, and he has traced the last relics to the neighbourhood of the castle. Borotin makes the officer welcome to his castle, and all the aid he can give him, and introduces to him Bertha as his daughter. The officer seems to regard Jaromir with a strange kind of expression, but is told he is the son-in-law of the Count, and his suspicions are at an end. He proceeds to describe the ravages committed by these banditti, and expresses his regret that so many of them should have fallen by a death too noble for their deserts-The dialogue is very animated here; Capt. No, no! the wheel-the block should be their doom. VOL. VI. Ber. Nay, nay-this is too cruel; when thou Judgest Thy fellow men, still shew humanity. Capt. Nay, lady, had thou seen what I have wit nessed, Thou would'st close up thy heart, and bar its gates (As to an insolent beggar) on compassion. Those smoking ruins, rendered visible By their own flames; old men in terror trembling, A devastated waste. Hadst thou seen this! Jar. (Stepping forward and scizing him,) This lovely being, Whose inward soul, like a fine mirror, shews Why would'st thou trouble thus? Why strive to blot Capt. Nay, let the wood So shatter'd straight be cast into the fire! Thine arm in action may not be so rapid! Capt. Ha! how am I to understand these words? Jar. Even take them, sir, as I have given them to you. Capt. Were it not in this place Jar. Aye-very true. Elsewhere, perchance, thy conduct were more guarded. Capt. Warmly, I see, thou would'st defend these robbers. Jar. Whoe'er is in distress shall gain my heart. Capt. The best among them, let him come, and I Jar. Call him aloud! Perchance he will appear! An end is put to this untimely altercation by the old Count-who insists on attending the captain in person, during his pursuit of the remaining banditti-the agitations-the reluctance-and the bitterness of Jaromir, are all accounted for by the fatigues and terrors he himself had so lately undergone; and the youth returns to his chamber at the same moment when the soldiers issue again from the castle to continue their pursuit. Before he goes, Bertha binds her blue scarf around his arm, as a token of their acknowledged and approved love. Bertha meantime, and the old Steward, gaze on the operations of the soldiers from the window of the hallfor the robbers are suspected to be lurking somewhere in the ruinous part of the edifice, and the torches they bear give light enough to make their movements visible. A cry is heard, and a rushing towards a particular cornerwounded on the ground, but it apone of the pursuing party is seen lying pears the robber has still succeeded in making his escape. In an instant after, Jaromir rushes again into the hall-his scarf is torn and bloodyand Bertha cannot account for the new terrors that are painted on his face. 2 I 1 But it is needless to give the details of a discovery which is already foreseen by the reader. One of the soldiers comes in to inform Bertha, that her father has been wounded, and it is no longer to be concealed that Jaromir has had his part in the scene that has just been going on without the castle. Jaromir, as Bertha begins already to suspect, is a robber; and the moment her suspicion is hinted, the youth speaks thus: Jar. Ha! well then!-all is past-the thunderbolt Has struck at last, wherewith the skies so long Were loaded, and I freely breathe again! Although I feel the stroke, and feel that all My hopes are gone-'tis well!-Now all is past! That bond must now be broken-that delusion Must all dissolve. And shall I tremble thus, To bear the name of that which, without shrinking, I have been in reality? No more Need I deceive. Farewell, ye fine-spun falsehoods, Has struck at last-the storm is over now. Whom thou hast named-whom officers pursue- placed Next to the devil, when the peasant says In whispers warning them, "Beware of sin, To wood and wold, whom murderers hail as brother I am the robber Jaromir! Ber. Wo! wo! Jar. And art thou trembling, Bertha? Can a name Thus fill thee with affright? Oh! be not thus So soon beguil'd. That part which even to hear Has thus alarm'd thee, I too oft have play'd In very deed. These eyes, which thou hast loved, Have been the horror of the traveller. This voice, to thee so soothing, has assisted The robber's arm, and with terrific tone Unmann'd the victim, till that arm had struck. Nay, even this hand, which rested oft in thine, With innocent blood has been defil'd! Look not So doubtfully, sweet being!-Aye, 'tis true! Ber. Oh, heavens! Away! Jar. Aye, thou art in the right! almost had I Forgotten what I am-No more of this! Cowardly tears, no more!-And shall a robber Presume to indulge in feelings like to those Of other mortals? Shall the precious dew Of tears be granted to his burning eyes?Away!-Cast out from brotherhood of men, To thee be every solace too denied! Despair and hatred only be thy portion!-How with myself I may have fought, and striven, And suffered,-this, my worldly judges, ask not!Before their bloody bar, all inward proofs Of guilt or innocence are disregardedDeeds only will they judge. Now, if your wrath, Wise lords, have sealed my sentence, I shall mount With a light step the scaffold; and to thee My voice will call aloud, Almighty Power!In mercy thou wilt hear my prayer. To thee, Whate'er my wounded bosom bears in secret Freely I shall unfold. Oh! righteous Heaven! Thou wilt in mercy judge, nor utterly Destroy the heart that with keen anguish throbs, And deep repentance. Born and bred up with robbers of their deeds Prolong my words?-Even tho' my heart is broken, (He is rushing out, when Bertha starts up, and recalls him.) Ber. Oh, Jaromir, stay-stay Jar. What do I hear? My Bertha's looks are turn'd on me again! Her voice recalls me, and on golden wings Brings back my life. (He hastens to her.) My Bertha-my own Bertha ! Ber. Leave me! Jar. No! I will leave thee not again! Ah! shall the miserable man, almost From shipwreck saved, driven on the watery waste, My Bertha!-and shall never more one look The plot now thickens fearfully. Jaromir parts from Bertha on the conclusion of this most affecting dialogue (of which we have only given a specimen.) She knows him to be a robber, but her love forgives every thing to the offender of fate and circumstance; she still adheres to the troth she had plighted; and promises to meet her lover, at midnight, at a particular window in the ruinous part of the castle-thence to fly with him for ever, and link all the residue of her fate with his. At the moment when the youthful pair join hands in token of their confirmed engagement, the Ancestress appears in the back ground, wringing her hands behind them, and pointing to the ground with a woful sternness. Jaromir has no arms; and seeing a dagger hanging So bury me, ye walls! Destruction come! It is thus that Borotin dies: Bertha is left lying on the floor in a stupor of agony, from which she, after a pause of several minutes, awakes wildly, and speaks. by the wall, he takes it down. "Take At the commencement of Act IV. the old Count Borotin is brought in wounded; and when they propose to bear him to his chamber, he refuses. The last of the Borotins, he says, must die in the hall of the Borotins, and a couch is spread for him in the midst of the floor-the armour and the portraits of his ancestors hanging on every side around him. While he is taking leave of his daughter, the Captain comes in and informs him, that one of the robbers, whom they have seized, has a piece of intelligence, which he is anxious, above all things, to communicate to him before he dies. The robber, an old man, Boleslav, is introduced. His story is, that the son of the Count was not drowned, as had been believed, but stolen from the castle gate by himself in his infancy. And where and what is he? (eries the dying man.) A robber?-Heaven! he answers not my question! Count. Here? Bol. My lord, Unknown to you that stranger, who, to-night, Count. Thou demon! Hold! Take back those horrid words! Thou fiend from hell, I say, recall them! Bol. Nay, my lord, 'tis true. Count. Recall thy words. Bol. My lord, in truth, I cannot. Count. (Raising himself with his whole strength (Boleslav is led out.) Count. He goes, and leaves his words yet unretracted: And am I called for? Yes, my name is Bertha ! Here lies my father! lies so still, and moves not! Hold, hold! Said they not that my father was a robber? So was the robber named; and from the bosom gnaws. And by slow torments wears her life away! And he, my brother-hold, hold !—down, I say— There gnaw and tear my vitals-But be silent! Her wandering looks now happen to notice on the table the phial, which (in the third act) she had insisted on taking from Jaromir. But what is this So glittering on the table? Oh, I know thee, [With the intention here expressed she endeavours The beginning of the fifth act represents Boleslav, who has been set at liberty, as seeking Jaromir in his lurking place. The unhappy boy, before this man joins him, is tormented by a thousand mysterious revulsions of thought at the deed by which his own safety had been purchased. Jar. And if what I have done be right, then Has this dark horror seiz'd me? Wherefore thus A multitude of goblins, pale as moonlight, To quell that moaning voice. In hollow murmurs me, That was no enemy's voice! The following is part of the conversation that passes between Boleslav and Jaromir. The old robber is communicating to the boy the true secret of his birth. Bol. This castle's halls first heard thy voice in Here first thine eyes beheld the light; and here, Hast thou first gain'd the embraces of a father! It is as I have said: Come now, wounded, And who can tell how short his life may be? ble lamentations and ravings of the unhappy boy. Sensible as he now is of all the accumulated horrors in which he has become involved-he is still anxious to see Bertha once more, and lingers near that window of the castle vaults at which she has promised to meet him. While he lingers, a light from another range of windows in the same part of the building attracts his attention-he climbs up, and, looking in, sees the chapel filled with priests and mourners surrounding the hearse of his father. Nothing can be conceived more awful than this situation-the choral lamentations and prayers peal upon his ear from this holy place like the accents of another world-and he flies from the scene of misery to bury himself in a vault beneath. This vault is the burial place of the Borotins. Conspicuous in its background appears the lofty monument of the ANCESTRESS. In the fore He lies there ground appears an elevated platform or bier, covered with a black shroud. Jaromir enters now in a state of delirium. We give the whole of this last scene. Round this old gloomy castle, he was struck Jar. Thou fiend! Malicious fiend! And with Wouldst thou destroy me? Art thou so presuming, Thou serpent! I will tear thee limb from limb; Bol. He is mad! Help! Rescue! Help! Jar. And must I then believe [He runs out. This demon's words? Ha! were they true: This tale, Whereof the thoughts alone, the possibility In my heart's deep recesses, and all round me, I His son! his only son! and-Ha! who spoke there? [Suddenly covering his face with both his hands. Most precious, holy, venerable, dear, Balm from his tongue distils; for he who gains Thro' life's rough waves, and at the tempest smile! Is held of Heaven abandoned and accurs'd. But our limits prevent us from being able to give any more of the terri Jar. So here I am at last. Now, courage! courage! As from another's voice. Where'er I go, Ha! [His own hands meet by accident. [The Ancestress then steps from the monument.] Jar. What, art thou there? Then all is well Come to these arms, my Bertha! Let me kiss Wherefore so mournful? Courage, dearest, cou- And is thy wedding then so melancholy? And as I feel, so too should'st thou. Pray, mark I know such marvellous histories, and adventures, Jar. Thou say'st it still So mournfully. My sister, laugh, I say! waste time No more of this! All is prepared for flight. An. Where is thy father? |
