[Transcriber's note:
Google:
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THE

LAWYERS,

A

DRAMA,

IN FIVE ACTS,

TRANSLATED

FROM THE GERMAN

OF

AUGUSTUS WILLIAM IFFLAND.

---

BY C. LUDGER.

---

LONDON:

PRINTED BV J. W. MYERS,
FOR W. WEST, NO. 27, PATERNOSTER-ROW,

---

1799.

[Price Two Shillings and Sixpence.]

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Author of the following Drama is universally allowed to be the Garrick of the German Stage, and the Dramatic Rival of KOTZEBUE in the Closet.--The great Object of MR. IFFLAND, in all his Dramatic Productions, is to render the Theatre what it was in the palmy Days of Terence--a School of Morality, by exhibiting Virtue in all her native Charms, and Vice in all her Deformity; or, in the Language of Pope,

"To wake the Soul by gentle Strokes of Art, To raise the Genius, and to mend the Heart; In conscious Innocence to make Men bold, Live o'er each Scene, and be what you behold!"

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Deputy Clarenbach.

Clarenbach, Master Carpenter.

Frederica, his Daughter.

Reissman, Aulic Counsellor.

Sophia, his Daughter.

Selling, Counsellor.

Gernau, Ranger.

Wellenberg, Lawyer.

Grobman, Iron Merchant.

Lewis, Deputy Clarenbach's Servant.

A Servant of the Aulic Counsellor.

THE

LAWYERS,

A

DRAMA.

---

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A plain Tradesman's Room, with old fashioned Furniture.

Master Clarenbach. (Busied with a design.)

Clar. So!--there is my design, and I think it is a pretty good one. It will make a substantial building.--When I am gone, people will say, when they look at the pile, "Master Clarenbach was a man that knew what he was about."

SCENE II.

Enter Lewis.

Lew. Deputy Clarenbach presents his compliments to Master Clarenbach, and sends him something.

Clar. What?

Lew. Deputy Clarenbach presents his compliments, and sends something.

Clar. (takes off his spectacles.) So my son sends me his compliments? So! well,--return him a good morrow from me. What is it he sends?--money! (opens the paper;) for what? he has written nothing in it, a mere blank.

Lew. I do not know; I am to have a receipt for it.

Clar. Take the money back.

Lew. What the deuce!

Clar. (rises.) No deuce here! and--take off your hat when you stand in my presence, Monsieur Lewis.

Lew. (takes off his hat reluctantly.) I am--

Clar. The Deputy's footman, and I am the Deputy's father.

Lew. Aye, aye; Master Clarenbach, the--

Clar. The carpenter, citizen and master, trustee of the hospital, ad Sanctum Mauritium in this town, master in my own house and in my own room; here is the money. I am busy, good bye. (Sits down to his design.)

Lew. Very odd.

[Exit.

Clar. Odd? hem! aye, aye. Odd you are, both the master and the servant.

SCENE III.

Enter Fredericka, (with a glass of wine, and a crust of bread on a plate.)

Fred. Father, the weather is very rough this morning.

Clar. Do you think so, my dear?

Fred. I cannot let you go out of the house so; you must take a glass of wine.

Clar. You are right, I think; (takes it.) Moreover, I shall be out a good while to day; (drinks;) perhaps I may not come home to dinner; (drinks;) bring my dinner then to the timber-yard.

Fred. With all my heart.

Clar. (looking at her.) I do not think you will do it with reluctance.

Fred. By no means. I will do it with pleasure. But my brother does not altogether relish it; and, in those little matters, I think we might please him.

Clar. (rises displeased.) I say, no! God bless him in the high station he fills! But that cannot be, if ever he should forget what he has been. And as his memory, in that respect, is daily impaired, it is necessary therefore to put him the oftener in mind of it.

Fred. Yet I think--

Clar. He is a Deputy,--let him thank God for it! I am a carpenter, thank heaven! You are my good dutiful daughter, that takes care of me, nurses me, and gives me great satisfaction; and for that, I return heaven threefold thanks from the bottom of my heart. (Fred. embraces him.) Yes, you are very good! I only find fault with two things; in every other respect you are a nice girl, quite the girl after my own heart. First, you read too much, and then--

Fred. Dear father, do not I tell you a number of entertaining and instructive things out of the books I read? Has my reading formed me otherwise than you would have me?

Clar. Not as yet, if the evil do not come limping at the end! Good God!--Books indeed impart information; that I must own. But since those deep learned works have carried thy brother so high, and, at the same time, so far from us; I think, when I behold the large heap of books in his study, I think I see a finger-post that directs from the heart.

Fred. Your pursuits and his are different, father.

Clar. In our respective lines, I grant it. If his heart were not a stranger to us from other motives, he would, when his work is done, come and say,--Father! you build houses, and I build laws, that the people may live secure in those houses. I have been successful to day in my work, if God should prosper it; and how have you succeeded? Then I would talk to him of my good old timber, and complain of the young green wood; he might then tell me, how pleased he is with the old colleagues that share his toils, or complain of the young green ones.--Thus we might exchange toil and pleasure, complaint and consolation; spend a comfortable hour together, and derive mutual advantage from each other. But he does not choose to do that; and, if his conscience now and then happen to twitch him a little, he sends me money. Money! what is money to me? when have I ever wished for more than to live? (With vivacity.) His money is the only thing I dislike about him.

Fred. Why so, father?

Clar. Because he has not that great quantity of it--hem! there--there, may be enough of it for this time. The second thing: I do not like in you is to see you converse with that Counsellor Selling. What is the meaning of it?

Fred. My brother entertains a high esteem for him.

Clar. Not I.

Fred. He is pleased to see him visit here.

Clar. Not I. And then have you not Gernau, the Ranger, whom you like, and I too?

Fred. Well, are you content if I manage so, that I may keep upon good terms with both?

Clar. I have no objection. But mind, all fair! none of your book stories! (Looks at his watch,) Half past eleven; you will bring my dinner to the yard.

Fred. Undoubtedly.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Enter Reissman.

Reiss. Aye, good morrow, Miss! Good morrow, Mr. Clarenbach! Well, how are you?

Clar. At work, Sir!

Reiss. So you have, ex officio, been appointed guardian of the poor orphans of Brunnig?

Clar. Yes, Sir, these four days.

Reiss. Aye, aye; it will prove a troublesome piece of business. Poor children! I pity them.

Clar. So do I.--And, to tell you the truth, the valuable bequest of the old aunt ought to go to the children, and not to you; to whom, contrary to all right and equity, she has bequeathed her all.

Reiss. Aye! Good heaven!--but then it is so in her will.

Clar. True enough. But the law should not permit it.

Reiss. A last will!--O Lord! that is a sacred thing. I pity the children, but--

Clar. I intend to try the validity of it.

Reiss. Aye, aye? I have been told so.

Clar. You ought to decline the bequest, Mr. Reissman.

Reiss. But, what heaven has sent me--

Clar. The property of orphans!

Reiss. You would not have me rob my child of the divine blessings which, without the least solicitation on my part, have devolved upon me from a strange person?

Clar. Your daughter, is not poor. The children of Brunnig are all beggars.

Reiss. Aye, good man, we will manage that, we will manage it!

Clar. How so?

Reiss. O heaven! Yes, we will send the children to the hospital to receive a christian education, and to be instructed, and I will--

Clar. To what hospital?

Reiss. To ours, of which I am the director, and you a trustee.

Clar. That will not do.

Reiss. If it be our will---

Clar. It must not be our will.

Reiss. Who is to oppose us?

Clar. The rules of the foundation itself; right and equity. The hospital, ad Sanctum Mauritium, is destined for the old and the sick; we must not displace them. No, I will carry on the suit against you as an unlawful heir.--

Reiss. Aye, thou good Lord in heaven! the will is so plain--

Clar. If I am cast, I will take Brunnig's children into my house, and then I will immediately engage in more business, employ more hands, and work hard to accomplish my design, with the aid of heaven.

Reiss. But your son, the deputy, approves of the children being sent to the hospital.

Clar. I do not approve of it.

Reiss. Your son is a sensible learned man, who most certainly knows--

Clar. And I have spent a good deal on him too.

Reiss. And a just man too he is.

Clar. That is his duty.

Reiss. And as these children may be taken care of in another manner, why would you, at your time of life, burthen yourself with more trouble? You have now toiled long enough, and to your credit too: now you should rest, and leave off business.

Clar. God forbid!

Reiss. Your son will not give up that point, I tell you: as a good son, he will lead his father to honour.

Clar. To honour? And what honour do I want, pray? I am a good workman, have sufficient to live on, employ fifteen people daily; share my earnings with many a poor man, and have a good conscience. What honour can he add to what I have?

Reiss. This very moment it is in agitation, to elect you mayor of our town. That is as good as settled, only--

Clar. No, Sir! I will not listen to that. I am quite well, when governed; and might not be so, if I were to govern others.

Reiss. But consider, how happy many a man would feel, if he--

Clar. Oh yes! I know well enough: many a man would wish to govern now-a-days; but not I. I intend to remain reigning master-carpenter in my own house and timber-yard.

Reiss. But perhaps your son might form connections--

Clar. A fig for every connection; cannot he form connections unless his father be mayor?

Reiss. The world has its prejudices--

Clar. Not I.

Reiss. To whom it is often prudent to yield.

Clar. No, Sir, no!

Reiss. But, suppose your son should wish to rise still higher?

Clar. Then God grant it do him good! that is my cordial wish. But I shall remain where I am, and I shall not climb after him.

Reiss. Well then, I must speak plain to you; your son pays his addresses to my daughter.

Clar. Does he? that is well done. Your daughter is an amiable young lady.

Reiss. Well, well;--but then I have some conditions to propose. I only desire that you may change your situation in life.

Clar. Does your daughter likewise insist on it?

Reiss. Suppose she did?

Clar. Then I would, were I in my son's place, decline the hand of a lady that would be ashamed of my father.

Reiss. But, if I should only ask that you shall leave off business--

Clar. Leave off business? I might as well leave off living. I am proud of my business, for, upon my word, I am a good carpenter.

Reiss. Well then, you may say you have been a carpenter. When you are Mayor, I will, with pleasure, call you brother. Only accept the office, and we will see the business taken care of.

Clar. No. I would be what I was called. I had better keep away from your council-board.

Reiss. I have now done my duty. Consider, that when the children come out of the hospital, I intend to make them a present. And that, if an action is brought against me, I shall not think myself under any obligation whatever.

Clar. Do not take it amiss;--I am rather positive, for I am arrived at the age in which people know which way the world turns, because they have often been forced to turn along with it. Should the poor children lose their suit, you are not the man neither of whom I should wish them take alms.

Reiss. Oh! if matters stand so, then I will do nothing at all, for my conscience is free, thank God.

Clar. I wish you joy.

Reiss. As for the rest, it is now all in your option, whether you will promote your son's happiness through that marriage, or not. I wish you good business, Master Clarenbach.

Clar. (alone.) Hem, hem!--I do not wish it, I know well enough;--but I should be sorry for Jack, if he were to lose the girl on that account.

SCENE V.

Enter Grobman.

Grob. Your humble servant, Mr. Clarenbach.

Clar. Servant, Sir! What is your pleasure?

Grob. My name is Grobman. I deal in iron wholesale.

Clar. Well; and--

Grob. And mean to settle here.

Clar. I wish you success.

Grob. But there is an other, who wishes to do the same,--one Benninger.

Clar. Success to him likewise!

Grob. He is for having the monopoly of the article here.

Clar. If so, I look upon him in a bad point of view.

Grob. But it is very profitable. I have the same object in view. Your son, the deputy, patronizes Mr. Benninger. But, if you would speak in my favour to your son, I know I should succeed.

Clar. I am a carpenter.

Grob. Very right. But then you are the Deputy's father. Benninger, as I am well informed, has secretly offered your son two thousand dollars by way of present.

Clar. What?

Grob. They have agreed.

Clar. Infamous calumny!

Grob. I will give you two hundred dollars beside, if you--

Clar. Set off!--for, upon my word, I will do you some mischief.

Grob. Do you want more than two hundred?

Clar. Justice I want, Justice! My son shall send you to prison, unless he be as great a good for nothing as yourself.

Grob. (laughs.) For what?

Clar. Sell! sell a monopoly! take money,--a bribe! My son, Jack Clarenbach, the sovereign's deputy, take money!

Grob. (laughs.) Aye, sure, for the trouble that he--

Clar. I will bring an action against you.

Grob. Are you in your senses?

Clar. I will inform--

Grob. So you may.

Clar. All you have said.

Grob. Do so.

Clar. My son shall have ample satisfaction. Where is your conscience, fellow? Defame a man in office and dignity? Now, go out by that door, or I will lay both my hands on you.

Grob. The man must be tipsy. (Laughs, and exit.)

Clar. Aye, you may laugh, you cursed thief. All my limbs tremble!--Some envious man, some fiend has sent him hither.--Jack would not betray his native town.

SCENE VI.

Enter Frederica.

Clar. It is not possible.

Fred. Only think, dear father--

Clar. Curse the money!

Fred. Brother Jack is---

Clar. He has too much. Yes, yes, yes! I know, he has too much, and it is impossible that he acquired it all in a fair way; but not so neither. It may have been scraped together somewhat unfairly; but not so neither, not so neither.

Fred. What ails you, pray? What do you talk about Jack and his money?

Clar. I cannot bear it, cannot bear his money.

Fred. Only think; Ranger Gernau sends me word, that yesterday the news arrived, that my brother has been made a Privy Counsellor.

Clar. Privy Counsellor?--hem!--Curse that iron merchant, that--

Fred. He is now the first man in this town.

Clar. Take money! sell privileges! (walks up and down.) It is impossible! Father and mother are honest people; he has been sent to church and school, never saw any thing amiss in us; no, nothing amiss in all his life-time. We have worked hard day after day; never indulged ourselves with breakfast or bagging,[1] that he might have every requisite, that we might spend on him as much as ever we could afford. And now, he is got up so high, and is one of those that rule the country, that now he should be worse than I would suffer a 'prentice boy to be, that I employ in my yard! Oh! if that be so, Lord take him or me, for I cannot bear it, either in this world or in the next!

[Exit.

[Footnote 1: Bagging, in the North of England, is the common expression for a meal taken between dinner and supper. And, as it perfectly expresses the meaning of the German vesperbrod, I thought myself authorized to adopt it here; particularly as tea, in the mouth of a character, like carpenter Clarenbach, would appear preposterous. The antiquaries of Yorkshire and Lancashire derive the word bagging from the old custom of carrying bread and cheese in a bag, in the afternoon, to the labourers in the fields; and this derivation is not altogether improbable.

Translator.]

Fred. I do not understand a word of all this. What does he mean?

SCENE VII.

Enter Gernau.

Gern. Good morrow, Frederica!

Fred. Why so ruffled? Is that your welcome, after having kept out of the way for two days together?

Gern. Things grow worse and worse, between your brother and me, every day.

Fred. Why so?

Gern. He would have me do things which I neither can, must, nor will do.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Clarenbach.

Clar. Jack a Privy Counsellor, you say?

Fred. Gernau says so.

Gern. His diploma arrived yesterday.

Clar. He has not mentioned it to me.

Fred. He will most certainly come to day.

Clar. But could he wait till to day?

Fred. Who knows but he wishes to surprise us?

Clar. He is going to be married too.

Fred. My brother?

Clar. I am told all this by strangers. Can he turn out so, because he is a greater man than I? or, perhaps, he is altogether bad.--God knows!

Fred. He is so full of business.

Clar. So am I.

Fred. Those that work with the head are apt to be more absent than those that work with the hand.

Clar. But is it not a real relaxation to act according to the dictates of the heart? or have the hearts of those people nothing to do with their concerns? If so, they are wretched beings indeed, and I am very sorry for my son, that he must first lose the treasures of his heart to hoard up gold.

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

Frederica, Gernau.

Fred. Tell me immediately, dear Gernau, what is the matter between you and my brother?

Gern. He is not a good man, Frederica.

Fred. Shall I go to him, Gernau?

Gern. Do not embitter my life, good soul; I have trouble enough besides. Your brother will drive me away.

Fred. What?

Gern. He will throw me out of my office.

Fred. Why?

Gern. To put a more accommodating man in my place.

Fred. He does not wish to do that certainly, nor could he even effect it.

Gern. He is all-powerful here; his abilities, his connections at Court, his office, render every thing possible that he wishes to atchieve.

Fred. And what does he want of you? what displeases him?

Gern. Under the pretence of promoting agriculture, he wants the best part of the forest for himself, which is of no great use to the community. And this pretended plea is a garden, he means to lay out in the English style for his own pleasure.

Fred. And should not an industrious man be indulged with some pleasure?

Gern. Should he wish to have it at the expence of the public? I must oppose it.

Fred. Does he know it?

Gern. Yes, he behaved so haughtily to me.

Fred. And you--

Gern. I thought on his sister,--and held my tongue.

Fred. (reaches him her hand.) Gernau!

Gern. He threatened me!

Fred. And you?

Gern. I curbed my passion. He bid me be gone,--and I shall not trouble him again.

Fred. And what do you intend to do as to the forest?

Gern. My duty.

Fred. (draws back her hand.) Oh!

Gern. Yes, yes! It will cost me your hand, I foresee.

Fred. Never!--my affection is fixed, and can never be diverted from the dear object.--Your complaisance--

Gern. I have been complaisant, as far as laid in my power. I cannot be so at the expence of my duty.

Fred. I do not insist on that either. But,--but--

Gern. What would you wish that your own sentiments of equity forbids you to utter?

Fred. I only wish--I demand nothing--I only wish you to soften your rigid idea of duty, if you can.

Gern. I know nothing but justice, that will not admit of any by-road. And if I were capable of such a sacrifice, whither would it lead me? It would lead me to see you, Selling's wife, and to laugh at me.

Fred. Must I break with all the world, because our hearts beat in unison? Am I criminal to listen to Selling's nonsense, because he is the only man through whom I can act upon my brother?

Gern. Then I may rely upon you?

Fred. Undoubtedly.

Gern. Pledge me your hand!

Fred. With all my heart!

Gern. Thus love will not forsake me, when I shall fall a victim to my duty.

Fred. I know no deceit, and follow the dictates of my heart.

Gern. In the name of heaven then I go to discharge my duty; it rewards and strengthens. Good bye, Frederica!--One more word, you are good; but are you resolute?

Fred. I am indeed!

Gern. Your brother has plans about you, in which I am most certainly set down for nought.--Frederica, Frederica, let him drive me hence, but not from you!

Fred. He shall not, he cannot. And no man can render me inconstant to you, but yourself.

Gern. Then you are mine, and I am easy.

Fred. And owe no grudge to my brother?

Gern. Frederica, I am an honest man.

Fred. Whom the purest love shall reward, as far as love can reward!

Gern. Adieu, dear Frederica!

Fred. Adieu, Gernau!

[Exeunt by opposite doors.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A room in the Privy Counsellor's, furnished in the modern stile.

Reissman, Lewis.

Lew. I shall have the honour to let the Privy Counsellor know, that the Aulic Counsellor Reissman waits. (Steps into a closet, out of which the Privy Counsellor immediately comes, and Lewis sometime after.)

Reiss. I fly to congratulate you on your well-merited elevation.

P. Coun. I thank you with all my heart. I shall never forget that I am indebted to you for it.

Reiss. I beg,--nay, I entreat--

P. Coun. Your advice.

Reiss. Too much modesty.

P. Coun. Your self-denial. For you yourself had the justest claims to all the honours, with which you permitted me to be invested.

Reiss. Audaces fortuna.--I am too old. Now you should enjoy life, my friend. The merchant will endeavour to get a hundred per cent. if he can; why should the statesman sell his labour to the state at three? Away with the silly prejudice, and the retail-trade of your conscientious precepts; carry on your business wholesale, on the sacred principle of self-preservation.

P. Coun. I partly do so, but my father--

Reiss. I have paid the old honest man a visit.

P. Coun. Very kind of you! very kind of you indeed!

Reiss. He persists in his determination of setting the will aside.

P. Coun. Ridiculous!

Reiss. He will not suffer the children to go to the hospital, because the institution is intended for old and decayed people.

P. Coun. Mere formalities, attached to old age!

Reiss. As for the rest, he appeared pleased with your proposed union with my daughter.

P. Coun. Was he!

Reiss. He said many handsome things of the girl.

P. Coun. Too much cannot be said in her praise. She is an angel.

Reiss. I humbly thank you.--But he will not accept the office of mayor on any account.

P. Coun. I thought so;--but he must.

Reiss. Oh, yes! I must request you to carry that point, for--

P. Coun. Without doubt.

Reiss. For, however pleased I may be with your connection, I could not possibly think of giving my daughter to a man whose father earned his bread as a mechanic.

P. Coun. Leave me alone for that. His whole mode of life will be changed. Nay, this change has in some measure taken place already.

Reiss. Bravo, bravo!

P. Coun. His mansion--

Reiss. Right, right!

P. Coun. His dress--

Reiss. Very necessary.

P. Coun. Those pitiful caps of my sister--

Reiss. Oh, nice! Oh! there you remove a heavy weight from my mind. And then the chief object, that law-suit--

P. Coun. You cannot lose it. The will--?

Reiss. I will stick to that, as if rivetted to it with iron.

P. Coun. It speaks in your favour in all its forms.

Reiss. But he is so obstinate in pursuit of the cause, and will--

P. Coun. He cannot gain it.

Reiss. I think so. But then he has engaged that old foolish lawyer Wellenberg, that--

P. Coun. A fool, and a pedant.

Reiss. True! But then he is such a conscientious fellow; and, besides, you know he is called the champion of the poor and the guardian of orphans.

P. Coun. I have his opinion in my study. Mere declamation! nothing else. Your answer is sound, legal, and argumentative, and then the testamentary disposition is so plain that it cannot be set aside. If you were inclined to make the plaintiff a present--

Reiss. O yes, O yes! notwithstanding I am very economical; for all that I acquire is solely intended for my child, and when it shall please heaven to call me, it will devolve to you, my dear Sir.

P. Coun. Very kind;--but-- Enter Lewis.

Lew. The widow Rieder--

P. Coun. Some other time.

Lew. And Counsellor Wellenberg--

P. Coun. The day after to-morrow, at two o'clock.

Lew. Then there is old Schwartz--

P. Coun. I cannot be troubled with him now.

[Exit Lewis.

Reiss. Always plagued, always tormented.--

P. Coun. Oh! there is no end of it!

Reiss. Why! But wealth and honours are very welcome things too. But chiefly mind wealth; wealth is the word. High stations are exposed to storms, like lofty trees in a forest. But, if you have wealth, then come what will. A trunk filled with good bonds is soon packed up. The rest of your moveables may be left to the commissaries, just as you would throw a few bones to the dogs; then retire and go. I am your servant. (Going.)

[Privy Counsellor attends him to the door.

Reiss. No ceremony; the morning-hour yields a hundred per cent.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Privy Counsellor, Lewis, Master Clarenbach.

Lew. I will first see.

Clar. Why, I heard my son's voice!--

P. Coun. Ah! is it my father?--

Clar. Yes! (reaches him his hand.) God bless you, Jack!

P. Coun. (to Lewis.) Leave us to ourselves.

[Lewis exit.

Clar. Halloo!--I say, Monsieur, stop a little, stay a little!--I mean to speak ill of you.

Lew. So?

P. Coun. How so?

Clar. Only think, dear Jack, all the people you have refused to see, this fellow has been snarling at. (To Lewis.) You must know those people in the hall are all as good as myself, and my son has been what I am, and in short we are all--men. Whilst the people know that my son has not forgot that his rank and titles are pure gold, they will pass at the highest course of exchange; but, as soon as they discover he has forgot what he has been, then his rank and titles will appear counterfeit. (To the Privy Counsellor.) They are all in the hall yet, except the old lawyer, who has business elsewhere; I have told them Monsieur Lewis had behaved very unmannerly, that I would let you know, and that you would come out to them.

P. Coun. But--

Clar. And that you may remain in currency and value, be so good, Jack, and go to them.

[Privy Coun. after a pause, leaves the room.

SCENE III.

Master Clarenbach, Lewis.

Lew. I do not understand Master Clarenbach's behaviour to me.

Clar. I dare say you do not. But, do you see, I think you ought to mend, or my son ought to send you about your business. To hear people, to say either yes or no, is the least my son can do. If you should attempt to hinder him from doing so, you are a rogue.

Lew. There is such constant intrusion.

Clar. Hem! and a great deal of distress too, and--

[Exit Lewis.

SCENE IV.

Enter Privy Counsellor.

P. Coun. Well, what should it be? Petitions, memorials, poverty, and faint hopes of relief.

Clar. Why, if you cannot relieve, mercy on us!

P. Coun. They are repeated so often, and I have so much business--

Clar. Now that you have been made a Privy Counsellor, I fear it will still be worse! Well, heaven grant you health, and may you act as you ought, and all may be well yet.

P. Coun. Why, father, did you return the money I sent?--

Clar. Because, thank God! I do not want it. What is the use of having more than is necessary, to supply the wants of life?--I think you have more.

P. Coun. There is no great harm in that.

Clar. But I think there is! People will have strange ideas, and do strange things, when they have too much. If I must tell you my mind, son, I am not altogether pleased to see you raised so high of a sudden, Our plain citizens are not altogether satisfied with you and your elevation. They think the other gentlemen shove you near the fire to get the roasted chesnuts out of the coals for themselves, and that you are a good cat's paw. Such, for instance, is that bequest to old Counsellor Reissman.

P. Coun. Pray, tell me, father, what induces you to oppose that will, which is legal, though I must own it bears hard on the children.

Clar. Jack, you know your father long, though for some time since you have made a stranger of yourself.--What would you think of me, if I had not commenced the suit?

P. Coun. The claim rests on a will.

Clar. Which has been obtained, by the old Counsellor, by undue influence; is not that your opinion?

P. Coun. Can that be proved?--

Clar. We must see--

P. Coun. If you cannot prove it, the Counsellor will recover.

Clar. He certainly will, and therefore you must assist me to combat him.

P. Coun. Who, I? How came you to think so? Well, we will leave the cause to take its due course, and so should you.--

Clar. Ay, ay, Jack.

P. Coun. Besides, I must tell you, Reissman proposes to give me his daughter.

Clar. So I hear. The lady has all my best wishes. Heaven prosper your union! But sure you would not begin it by an act of injustice!

P. Coun. No, certainly not! But why would you, suppose even though Reissman were wrong,--why would you, for the sake of strangers, destroy my happiness?

Clar. Can poor, injured, unhappy children, in any situation, be strangers to me? And have wards, intrusted to my care, fewer titles to my assistance than my own children? And have not you, in the name of the magistrates, appointed me one of their guardians?

P. Coun. That, as they are unfortunate, I might see them in good hands.

Clar. Why, they are in good hands. I am come to request you to see the business speedily executed. Of the verdict itself I will make no mention. You will act as an honest man, or else I must despise you, and look for redress elsewhere. Meanwhile, I tell you, the children shall not go to the hospital, because that is impracticable.

P. Coun. Father, I Have given my word.

Clar. You must recall it.

P. Coun. How can I?

Clar. Say you did not understand the matter. It is upon my word better than to expose your name to shame or ridicule, and to fill your mind with inquietude.

P. Coun. Father, I love you dearly, but pray do not interfere with my business.

Clar. Very well; then you act as Privy Counsellor, as you think proper; and I, as trustee of the hospital and guardian of the children, will do the same.

P. Coun. Cannot we talk of more agreeable things, and drop that question. I wish you so well, but you reject all I propose.

Clar. You make me presents in money, and, I am told, you want to make me mayor of the town. Jack, make me no presents! do good to town and country; and, if you can, come after your business is done. I do not care if it be but once or twice every three months; come to me in my timber-yard. Then we will close the doors, seat ourselves in the little bower, where, when a boy, you used to sit so industriously about your tasks; there we will spend an hour in happy converse, and drink a glass of old wine that you shall send me; then I will thank God for my dear boy, who has continued to be a good son, and, when you leave me again to repair to your desk, I will give you my blessing, and look after you, till you are quite out of sight! Do you see, Jack, I ask no more;--I have no occasion for more; but this I earnestly request of you. Give me your hand, that you will do it. That is the way I wish you to honour and to please me.

P. Coun. I shall do more, father. Pray accept it, and--

Clar. All your other honours are of little estimation in my sight; these grey hairs, blanched with care and toil, shall never be covered with a long bushy wig; look at these hands, rough with labour; look on your father, as you know his ways; you also know that he is neither to be drawn nor driven out of them; Master Clarenbach, even in the office of Mayor, would not suit your fine apartments and your fine company. What, to remain at home, as motionless as an old statue, scarce permitted to speak to an old friend, lest it should lessen his dignity, or break in on his gravity! What, to remain in such a situation, and see people work and move before his window! Jack, that will not do. Pray, as I never found fault with you for being too high, do not find fault with me for being too low; it is best suited to my age and inclinations.

P. Coun. Certainly not; but Mr. Reissman insists on it, as a principal condition.

Clar. I hope you know that there is a wide difference betwixt your father and Mr. Reissman. My axe, since I could raise it, has been employed in raising houses for the industrious, and his pen, since he could handle it, in pulling them down again.

P. Coun. This is the only service you can render me now father; is it not unkind to refuse me then?

Clar. The only service I can render you now? What, if the cares and inquietudes of rank and office should lay you on a sick bed, who would attend you with so much tenderness and affection as your old father? What if your house should take fire, I would be the first to ascend through the flames; but I will not climb into office and rank, I tell you that.

P. Coun. You must give way, father.--

Clar. You now stand on high; may you so stand respected by your fellow citizens and approved by your own conscience is the sincerest wish of your old father! Therefore, I prefer my complaints to you against a man; his name is Grobman, an ironmonger. This wretch wanted to persuade me, that you had taken two thousand dollars from another, to let him have the monopoly. He offered me two hundred dollars, if I would gain you over to his interest. Arrest the vile slanderer.

P. Coun. That fellow is an ideot.

Clar. God forbid! he is much worse. I have told him I would inform against him, and so I have to a few of my acquaintances.

P. Coun. Why so?

Clar. That you should make an example of him.

P. Coun. What is all this fuss? Why do you interfere with my concerns?

Clar. Concerns? I am as anxious for your honour as I am for your life! Do not you bear my name, which has always been as good as the best bond, in this place, time out of mind? Are not you my son? Are not you the representative of our sovereign? Is not the least stain visible on your ermine? Is it, or is it not true, Jack?--No, no, I say; it is impossible, it cannot be true!

P. Coun. It is possible; it is so, but done in a manner which cannot--

Clar. Do not speak, I will not know it. I---I--cannot (going from him) look on you. Is that your wisdom! your honour! your integrity! Have I, therefore,--well,--if matters are so with you, then do as you like; enquire no more after me, come no more to see me; you ought to be ashamed of yourself, in the presence of your honest father. Farewell, Jack; repent and amend. I will visit you no more, till you have altered your ways, and divided your cursed mammon among the poor. Live on your honest earnings; then come to me, tender me a clean hand, and I will bless you. (Exit.)

SCENE V.

Privy Counsellor, (alone.)

P. Coun. Whimsical, honest man!--Whoever is forced up to the giddy summit, must hold as fast as he can, and by what he can.

SCENE IV.

Enter Counsellor Selling.

P. Coun. What part of the world have you come from Selling?

Sell. From Miss Frederica.

P. Coun. From my sister? how is she? Has the new furniture been carried home?

Sell. Beautiful, splendid! thanks to your care! Old papa will open all his eyes when he comes home. All the old furniture has been carried off, and the room looks very elegant with all the new things you have sent.

P. Coun. And Frederica?--

Sell. She was so uneasy, she did not know what to do with herself. She fixed her eyes on every article as it was carried off, as if she took leave of an old friend. But the large easy chair still remains; she grasped it with both hands, and would not suffer it to be removed.

P. Coun. These people must be metamorphosed; we must see how they reconcile themselves to it.

Sell. But, what a man you are! What a noble heart, to be thus attached to your family!

P. Coun. Very natural. I am indebted to my father for so many things;--and Frederica is a good-natured creature.

Sell. More than that. I know none of her sex that strives so anxiously to cultivate her understanding, and to exalt her faculties to an extraordinary height.

P. Coun. (gives him his hand.) I am glad you find her so.

Sell. With your permission, Frederica will now assume a different dress, better suited to the furniture you have sent.

P. Coun. I have to thank you for this attention.

Sell. By your direction I do all that lies in my power to fan the girl's ambition. If that Mr. Gernau only--

P. Coun. That fool! He shall be removed. All has been prepared, and is now determined on; He goes to Friethal. His patent is in hand.

Sell. It is too lenient for his stubborn opposition. This indulgence on your side will gain you every heart.

P. Coun. Do you think I am rather popular?

Sell. Popular? People venerate you with enthusiasm! And what have you not done to acquire this popularity? The formation of the new roads, under your wise regulation, without any burthen to the individual! the increase of commerce--

P. Coun. I have done a great deal; I think I may claim some merit.

Sell. The abolition of beggary; the institution for the support of the indigent--

P. Coun. Oh! there are so many things to be done yet!

Sell. And you have so much power in your hand. What do you say to my last performance?

P. Coun. I have perused it. To be candid, you must apply yourself more to solid knowledge. There are glaring faults in it.--

Sell. Under your inspection--

P. Coun. With all my heart. But you must do more, and then the faults in orthography are too numerous. Call in the assistance of a good grammarian.

Sell. I will endeavour--

P. Coun. Your motion in the court-house of yesterday, that the foot-passenger should be prohibited to walk in the middle of the street, has provoked some laughter.

Sell. I wanted to propose something in my turn too.

P. Coun. It is too trifling. Wait for the motions of the senior barristers, and--

Sell. I wanted to give myself a little air of consequence by a motion of my own, hence--

P. Coun. No, no. If you have nothing of greater consequence to propose, you had better walk like the rest in the middle of the street. (They retire to the closet.)

SCENE VII.

Master Clarenbach's house.

Instead of the furniture which appeared in the first act, a modern writing-desk and handsome chairs.

Enter Frederica, followed by a servant with a large band-box.

Fred. My name is Frederica; what do you want with me?

Serv. To take these things, madam.

Fred. I will take nothing.

Serv. And I will take back nothing.

Fred. Who has sent you to me?

Serv. Somebody that has a right, I suppose. (Puts down the band-box, and retires.)

Fred. (alone.) It may remain there, I will not touch it; I will not look at it. (Going from the band-box.) Sure, there are some articles of dress for me in it. It is odd that they will not leave us as we wish, to our own wishes. (Draws a step nearer.) It may not be for me perhaps. (Reads the direction at a distance.) To Miss Frederica Clarenbach; but it is addressed to me, I see! If any person,--if Gernau should happen to come in, I must remove the box. (Takes hold of it.) Quite light! as light as a feather! What does it contain? What is that to me? (Takes it up, and walks a few paces.) If Gernau should now meet me, it would look as if I wanted to conceal something. Dear me! (Places it at some distance on the floor,) my brother must have sent it! Somebody that has a right to do so, the fellow said; that must be my brother, and so I may look at it. Besides, my father will certainly send back the furniture, and then this may bear the rest company. Now, if I should not even look at it, it would seem as if I despised my brother. No, I will open and look at the things; but certainly I will keep none. (Kneels down, cuts the strings, opens the lid, and starts up in surprise.) Ay dear! how pretty! (Kneels down again.) A cloak! O what beautiful lace! hem! why, a cloak is not too gay for tradesfolks; I think it is part of their dress; I may keep it. (Puts it on.) As if it had been made for me! (Kneels down again.) A hat! a very pretty one indeed!--but a feather,--no, God forbid! (Pause.) All but that feather,--I might wear it without a feather. A new hat, I wonder how I look in it! (Puts it on, and then steps up to the glass.) Pretty well;--and the cap under the hat,--that looks like the picture of the handsome English lady at my brother's. (Returns to the box.) What is that red stuff? (Takes out a gown.) Rose-Colour! (Astonished, calls out aloud.) Satin! (The gown drops on the floor?) Satin! God forbid I should wear satin! That is too gaudy, too glossy, too shewy; it would draw all the neighbours to their windows. (Takes up the gown.) I hope I have spoiled nothing. (Hangs it over a chair, kneels down, and continues to examine the box.)