ercise, and the hand might, perhaps, choose to retain what it once had grasped. Eugenie. But what other expedient is there? Duke. I have hit upon one, and should like to have your opinion of it. Listen to me. Whether I admit into my counsels a foreigner, or one of my subjects, it will be of no avail; he will have his weaknesses-they will know how to take advantage of them, and I shall only be the more closely beset by snares. I will govern, but with the aid of a secret agent entirely devoted to me, impenetrable to corruption, invisible to all, known to me alone. Eugenie. And where is such a treasure to be Attached to his mother, notwithstanding her unwarrantable interference with his prerogative, and having a regard for his father's old ministers, in spite of the scanty obedience they showed him, he was unwilling, and it would have been unwise, abruptly to assume toward them an attitude of defiant opposition. But he was deficient neither in good sense, in resolution, nor in wit; and he soon formed a plan of his own, by which he trusted peaceably to attain his end. The minister's unwise meddling with his gardens had been the last pound which breaks the camel's back, and had exhausted the young prince's patience. He is confirmed in his resolve by a revelation made to him by his cousin, his moth-found? er's niece, the Princess Eugenie, to whom he is ardently but secretly attached. She informs him that negotiations are already in progress for his marriage with a princess of Brunswick. On learning this, he loses all patience, and vows at once to show that he is master, not only of himself, but in his own dominions. Eugenie implores him to be prudent, reminding him that an abrupt and violent step must draw down upon them the anger of the duchess, to whom their mutual attachment is unknown. He entreats her to advise him. In the remainder of the scene, the main idea of the play is developed. Eugenie. Every step that you take contrary to the decision of your ministers, is unfortunately, as things now stand, taken also against your mother. You cannot at once openly step forward and oppose them. You have lived too carelessly. You took the crown as a plaything, and, through the inspirations of others, you have hitherto worn it as a plaything. They have outwitted you; they have made you believe that your Government could prosper, and yourself be beloved by your people, only so long as you left the guidance of affairs to your mother, and blindly followed her advice. Believe me, any violent measure will be imputed to you, who are little known to your subjects, as criminal presumption, and will be interpreted as a wanton desire to destroy all that the duchess has done for the good of the country. Duke. Not amongst the living; but our fancy shall create it. I will take an opportunity of mentioning, that a person whom I have known upon my travels, is coming to pass some time in this capital. I will add, that he is one of the cleverest, most accomplished, and yet one of the most modest of men, and that he is to act as my counsellor and friend. But, as I know how many would strive to convert him into the tool of their own ambition and intrigues, it is my will that he shall be invisible to the whole court. Eugenie. Ah, I understand your Highnessan excellent idea! You thus create for yourself an unseen power-the more dreaded because invisible and inaccessible to all. The mere belief in the existence of such a being, will spread alarm and distrust in the ranks of your foes.They will lose all feeling of security, so soon as they believe themselves under the eye of an invisible observer. Duke. Yes, I feel that to be the only means of conquering my rightful position. The Secret Agent is now soon brought into play. In the next scene the Duke announces to his mother his friend's approaching arrival. She is startled at the idea of a stranger appearing at court, as her son's most intimate and trusted companion-as a favorite, in fact. He will not appear at court, the Duke replies: he is not a man of high family-he loves not much society, is of studious habits, and somewhat of a Duke. I will begin by appointing a new min-man-hater. But he is most honorable and intelliistry, composed of younger men, popular, and with good intentions. I will say to them, give me your advice, guide me on this difficult path, until I am able steadily to pursue it. gent, and has rendered the Duke great services. The Duchess still objects. We must tell people, she says, who the young man is, and what he does at our court. Duke. Certainly; we can say that he attends to some private foreign affairs of mine, and is in connection with the neighboring courts. I call Eugenie. You will not succeed, Prince. Who will accept a minister's portfolio without your mother's sanction? Supposing you really were able to remove the old ministers, what altera-him my secret agent. tion would that make in your position? Oh, that you had but one friend, who would stand by you firmly and decidedly! Duchess. But that designation? Duke. Is, for the court but a name; but for me, he really is a secret agent. I will soon prove to you that he is a man who has good information. To-day, for instance, he writes me from Brunswick and Duke. Alas, for such a friend to serve me; must he not himself first gain the confidence of the country-must he not first work himself through the labyrinth of intrigues, that, on all Duchess. From the court of Brunswick ? sides, surrounds me? And where is a friend to Duke, (nods.) He writes me a charming piece be found? How seldom have princes true of news. You know the princess Amelia? friends; and a false friend, in whom I should Duchess, (astonished.) Yes, certainly, andentirely confide, were far worse than none. Duke. My Secret Agent writes to me concernthere really exist a hand so powerful as to wrest ing her, and mentions, amongst other things, that the government from its present possessors, we there is a project at our court to bring about a must bear in mind, that power is pleasant to ex-marriage between the Princess and myself. Did Duchess. Your Secret Agent writes the truth. (Aside.) He is, perhaps sent from Brunswick. (Aloud,) I thank you, heartily, my dear son, for the words you have just spoken. They make me very happy. The good sense and readiness with which you enter into my dearest wish, are, alone, able to sustain my failing health and feeble nerves. Duke. Grant yourself a little repose. You seem fatigued. We can talk about these things some other time. Count Steinhausen has evil forebodings on learning, from the Duchess, that her son expects an old friend, who enjoys his confidence, is to remain unseen by all, and has hearalded his arrival by the communication to the Duke of so important a state secret, as the projected alliance with the house of Brunswick. But he flatters himself he shall soon discover the name and proceedings of the mysterious personage. That afternoon, when the court are assembled and awaiting the dinner hour, George, the Duke's gentleman' of the chamber, who has long been dissatisfied to find that he enjoys less influence than the last of the Duchess's ladies, and on whose fidelity and discretion the Duke knows he can depend, enters and makes a communication to the Chamberlain, who in his turn, announces to the Duke, with an air of great astonishment, that his Highness's Secret Agent has just arrived. The Duke immediately retires to his private apartments to receive the mysterious stranger, leaving the court, and especially the Premier and the Grand Chamberlain, puzzled, anxious, and with an unpleasant presentiment. And the first act concludes. In the second act, the Secret Agent is in full activity. In the first scene the Grand Chamberlain soliloquizes his uneasiness. He has in vain endeavored to find out something about the Duke's new friend: all his wily offers of apartments, carriage, horses, etc., have been declined; during the whole of his thirty years' service at court, he has found no knot so difficult to untie, no secret so impenetrable to his acuteness. and Count Steinhausen lay their heads together, but the sole result is an agreement to support each other, staunchly, against the redoubtable and invisible influence. Incidents soon occur to He augment their alarm. His Highness, it is presently announced by George, will not require the usual morning report. He will know, without that, what is going on. The ministers can assemble, as usual. in the Duchess's apartments. Is his Highness unwell? Count Steinhausen inquires. Not in the least, but on the contrary, in perfect health and spirits, and at that moment transacting business in his cabinet with-his Secret Agent. The Count's alarm is doubled. Hitherto the Duke has always been so eager to know all that went on, so displeased when he thought anything was kept from him, and nowthe change is great, indeed, and bodes no good. Steinhausen bids the valet-de-chambre announce him to the Duke, as particularly desiring an audience. This is granted, and the minister craves permission to present to his Highness his nephew, Count Oscar, on his return from his travels. Duke. Ah! I remember him well. He is a little younger than I am; an agreeable young man, and a good rider. I shall be glad to see him. (Count Steinhausen bows low:) He will remain here some time, I hope. Count, (coughs and looks cautiously around him.) Your Highness will perhaps permit me to make to you a confidential communication with regard to my nephew. Duke, (smiling.) A confidential communication-to me? A real secret, known perhaps, as yet, to none but to my mother and to you? No, no; I am not curious, nor care to be intrusted with such important matters. Count. But it is a matter that concerns your Highness's house, and which will probably not be communicated to you for some days by her Highness the Duchess. Duke. Indeed! Well, I can wait.-Or what should you say, my dear Count, if I already knew something of your secret? Count, (astonished.) Of the most gracious intention-? Duke. Of my mother with respect to- Count. With the Princess Eugenie? Count. Your Highness was fully informed of the project? Duke. Certainly. Count. By her Highness the Duchess? Count. (aside.) The devil! He is well informed. The subject was broached this morning for the first time. Duke, (glancing over a newspaper.) Is that all you have to say, Count? You see that your secrets are to-day valueless for me. I know them already. Count. Yes, your Highness, and I am quite astonished-confounded. Duke. It certainly is a pity, my dear Count, that you should have waited, to be frank with me, until the very day when your frankness is of no avail, since, as you perceive, I am informed of everything. Count. Of everything? Duke. By my Secret Agent. Duke. Yes, yes! Count. To work secretly for your Highness's good-so that it was impossible for us Duke. Enough of apologies, my good Count! What is done cannot be undone, and for the future Count. I am fully resolved to observe only the interests of my most gracious master. Duke. Why so? That would cause you unpleasantness with my lady mother. I now know everything that you could possibly communicate to me. Count. Everything, your Highness ? Duke. Everything, Count Steinhausen. Count, (takes a puper from his portfolio.) excepting the contents of this despatch to the court of Bavaria ? Not Duke, (rejects the paper by a motion of his hand.) Doubtless that also, and, if not, I am sure to learn it to-day in a manner less compromising for you. (The Count gazes hard at the Duke.) Through my Secret Agent. (gravely) Yes, my dear Count, the time is gone by when a communication of that kind from you, which it certainly is quite your duty to make to me, might have been reckoned as a service rendered. the principal personages of the piece, namely, the Duke, the Duchess, Eugenie, Count Steinhausen, Count, (after a little struggle with himself) True his nephew, and the Grand Chamberlain, are asit is, your Highness, that I have constantly re-sembled in the saloon in which the whole action proached myself and regretted that we were not of the comedy passes (the scene is not once permitted to inform you of everything that changed), when the Duke is observed to be lookpassed, as it certainly is my duty to inform you. ing attentively out of the window into the park. But your Highness is aware of the ardent wish The obsequious courtiers make remarks to him of her Highness the Duchesson the beauty of the scenery, on the advantageous point of view, on the good effect of a new ornamental summer-house, on the splendor of a gi gantic flowering aloe. The Duke allows them to see that it is none of these things that fix his attention, and their curiosity becomes excited. "I think," he at last carelessly remarks, "that, if I was not mistaken, I saw my Secret Agent pass yonder, through the great alley, leading to the basin." He then leaves the apartment, and forthwith Count Steinhausen sends his nephew to seek the Duke's mysterious counsellor, whilst the Chamberlain hurries away, also bent upon making his acquaintance. Whilst the two courtiers are thus employed, a scene takes place be tween the Duke and his mother. The former intimates to the Duchess that he is disposed to concern himself more than has been his wont in state affairs, which are often closely connected with his own private affairs. He refers to the question of his marriage with the Princess of Brunswick, as one concerning him alone, and on which he alone will decide; takes his mother to task for disposing of Eugenie's hand without consulting him, the chief of the house; and finally comes to the treaty with Bavaria, the particu lars of which he had so cleverly extracted from Count Steinhausen, and with reference to which he says, he has thought it his duty to send pri vate instructions to his ambassador at that court. The Duchess is astonished at the extent of his information, forgets her nerves, gets angry, and inveighs in good round terms against the wretched spy, the Secret Agent, from whom her son invariably assures her that he has learned the things which she had thought to keep from him. After an interview with Count Steinhausen, she makes up her mind to leave the capital for a country villa of her own. The palace she finds unbearable since the arrival of the intriguing stranger whom none can discover, but who discovers everybody's secrets. The Count is alarmed at the idea of being left to bear the brunt of the Duke's displeasure, which he feels he has deserved. He is mistaken, the Duchess informs Duke, (rings. To the servant who enters.) My him. She is going to pass a part of the summer hat, my sword!-I must take a turn in the park; at her villa of Caserta, in order to escape from a my heart is too full; I want fresh air. Intrigues residence where the ground is mined under her without end! So to manoeuvre behind my back, feet by an inscrutable opponent. Her son may to settle the most important affairs without say. remain with his Secret Agent; the ministers are ing a word of them to me! (At the door he meets invited to accompany her. She desires the the Princess, and returns with her into the apartment.) Grand Chamberlain to have her carriages immeAh, Eugenie, I am rejoiced to see you for a mo-diately prepared; the Princess will go with her; ment alone! In two words, our plan perfectly her ladies can follow the next morning. In half succeeds. My Secret Agent is already one of an hour, the prompt and imperative dame rethe most dreaded personages at the court. All quires her carriages to be ready at the garden think themselves observed by him, no man gate. The Chamberlain is confounded by the trusts another-hardly trusts himself and our suddenness and rapidity of the move. The Ďuke, most dangerous foes hasten to confide to us their he observes, dose not appear to intend quitting the capital, for he is out shooting. So much the better, says the Duchess to herself, and goes into Count, (wipes the perspiration from his forehead) I am in despair, your Highness! But since you are acquainted with the contents of this paper, suffer me to beg that you will be graciously pleased to favor me with your opinion of them, that I may be able to act conformably with your Highness's wishes and interests. Duke, (takes the paper and glances over it, represses a movement of surprise and displeasure, and speaks in a firm and decided tone.) I knew of this affair. I shall give my opinion of it to my mother, but will not mention that I have heard of it from you. (With a forced smile) Go and make your report; you might compromise yourself by remaining too long alone with the reigning Duke. Count, (going out.) This agent is a demon, and deals in the black art. secrets. Some amusing scenes follow this one. All her apartments to give directions concerning the that the strictest orders have been given to allow journey. Count Steinhausen, left alone, paces no carriage whatsoever to leave the palace this the stage in much perturbation. evening. Duchess. No carriage to leave the palace? Count. That was the order, was it not so, my Lord? Count. This goes too far, and, on duly weighing the matter, it is not in accordance with my duty to his Highness. But what shall I do? The Duchess is roused, I know the strength of her will; there will be no turning her from this decision. If the Duke were only here! So fine an opportunity to display myself as his most faithful servant will hardly again occur; but then it is impossible to refuse obedience to the Duchess. Hitherto all orders have emanated from her; it were rebellion against the highest authority. (He walks up and down.) Stop!that may do! That way it is possible. Yes, yes, I preserve the Duchess from a rash step, and the Duke will thank me for it. (The Grand Chamberlain enters.) Chamberlain. The carriages are ready: but I entreat your Excellency to give me something in writing, to justify me in case of need. My head swims. Castle, corridors, staircase, carriages, everything seems turning round with me. Count, (gravely). My dear Lord Chamberlain, we are in a very important crisis. You must not accompany the Duchess, I fear. Chamberlain. My disgrace-my inattention yesterday at table. Count. Possibly. It is not long since I told you that events would here come to pass whose force we should be able to resist only by sticking firmly together. Chamberlain, (grasps his arm.) You see how cling to you. I Count. Good! Stand by me steadily. I know your presence of mind. Chamberlain. My God! What must I do? Count. Not much; merely announce to the Duchess that the carriages are ready, and then, looking at me with an air of embarrassment, you will add But! Chamberlain, (who looks with profound astonishment at the Count, in a lamentable tone.) Yes, that was the order. Duchess. And from whom did that order proceed? Count. From his Highness the Duke. Duchess. What is this I hear, my Lord Chamberlain; who brought the order? Chamberlain, (drawing a deep breath.) The Secret Agent. Duchess, (with an air of resignation.) 'Tis well, my Lords; my journey is postponed until to morrow morning! The Duke is somewhat astonished to find that but on learning from George-who since the arhis Secret Agent has been acting independently; rival of the mysterious counsellor has found his importance increase, and is noticed by the Duchess's ladies-his mother's proposed escapade, he presently guesses that it is Count Steinhausen, whose carriage just then drives into the court, who has invented an order to prevent her departure. He gives instructions to his valet, and withdraws into his cabinet in time to avoid the Count. One of the first things Steinhausen learns from George, who skilfully seconds his master's schemes, is, that at breakfast that morning the Secret Agent has made a complaint of him for having given an order in his name. The Count, who is perfectly terrified at this prompt tion to conceal, endeavors to induce George to discovery of an act he had taken every precauobtain him an interview with the mysterious stranger, makes great promises, and at last obtains from the valet the assurance that he will do his best. Left alone, the puzzled Steinhausen reverts to the discovery of his having given the Duchess. We are ready. Now, gentlemen,-order that detained the Duchess, and asks himwhat is the matter? Count Steinhausen, how thoughtful you look!-and you, my Lord Chamberlain, what has occurred so to discompose you? Chamberlain, (looking very much embarrassed.) But! Count. But!-your face is really capital !— (Enter the Duchess and the Princess.) Chamberlain, (looking dreadfully confused.) But! Chamberlain. Your Highness's orders have been exactly fulfilled, the carriages are ready, but -(he looks at the Count.) But Duchess. But what, my Lord? Count. Speak out, inform her Highness of what you have heard! (Chamberlain, in the utmost embarrassment, shrugs his shoulders.) Duchess. Am I at last to know what this means? Count. My Lord Chamberlain is quite beside himself—it is indeed a very strange circumstance —word has been brought from the guardhouse DLIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. VIII. 2 self how it can have been made. His suspicions at last rest upon the Grand Chamberlain, the only person, he thinks, who can possibly have betrayed him. The chief officer of the court believes himself in disfavor with the Duchess, in consequence of a recent slight piece of negli. gence on his part, and doubtless he is trying to gain favor with the Duke by betraying the ally whom he had recently promised to stand by to the last. The Duke's plan is succeeding even beyond his expectations; mistrust and discord already spring up amongst his opponents. When Count Oscar went out into the park to look for the Secret Agent, he fell in with an elegant-looking young man, who he doubted not was the person he sought. He made his acquaintance, talked with him about the park and the weather, dogs and horses, and endeavored, but in vain, to lead him to topics of stronger interest. He was not even able to inquire his resider.ce, owing to the sudden manner in which the stran ger took his leave, and disappeared amongst the shrubberies. He has just given the stranger these particulars, and has learned from him the projected most advantageous alliance with the Princess Eugenie, when the Grand Chamberlain enters. He too has seen the Secret Agent. He found him feeding the ducks in the great basin, made his acquaintance, and had the waterworks played for his gratification. He describes him as a short elderly man, and is unmercifully quizzed by the Count, who informs him that he has taken all his trouble for the wrong person, for some harmless saunterer in the park, that the real agent is young, tall, slender, and a former college companion of Oscar's, who had met him the day before. Presently the Chamberlain begins to suspect the Count of secretly courting the Duke, and of playing him false. In his turn he tries to prevail upon George to present him to the Secret Agent, whom he is still convinced he has talked with in the park; being confirmed in that belief by the valet's admission that the description he gives of his appearance corresponds with the reality. George promises to acquaint the Secret Agent with his wishes. As may be supposed, the Duchess's nerves were at the very worst in consequence of the prohibition of her departure. She made bitter complaints to her son, and then returned to the subject of the double marriage she had set her mind upon, entreating the Duke for God's sake to leave her quiet, which meant, in her mouth, to let her have her own way in everything. In despair at her obstinacy, the Duke was on the point of confessing all to her, the device of the Secret Agent, and his love for Eugenie, and of entreating, as the reward of his frankness, her consent to his union with his cousin. But this weakness was but momentary, and he fortunately abstained from a step which would have deprived him, in an instant, of the vantage-ground he had won. He saw Eugenie, put her on her guard, and entreated her to be firm. His mother, he knew, was about to propose to her the hand of Count Oscar, and the good lady's proposals of that kind strongly resembled commands. He was not mistaken. In a long scene the Duchess informs her niece that the Duke is to marry the Princess of Brunswick, and that she has found a husband for her in the person of the younger Count Steinhausen, to whom she has promised her hand. Eugenie objects that she has not been consulted; the Duchess appears to think that would have been unnecessary, previous to the arrangement of the affair, but consults her now the thing is done. The imperious lady has no notion of any one but herself having a will. Driven into a corner, Eugenie intimates that she has already given away her heart. The Duchess is indignant. At that moment the Duke appears at the door of his cabinet. this inclination arise? Who is its object? Must I dread your answer? Princess. Unfortunately, Duchess, my answer Princess. I scarcely dare to name him. Princess. Oh! your Highness, I am grieved at this scene, grieved to be compelled to name to you him on whom my affections are fixed. I well know that I shall hardly or never obtain your consent; but do not on that account suppose, Duchess, that the object of my love is unworthy of me. Not so, indeed, for he is one of the best and noblest men at this court. (Duchess makes a gesture of astonishment.) Princess. Yes, at this court; but the position he occupies is so peculiar that I scarcely dare to explain myself more fully. (Further signs of astonishment on the part of the Duchess.) I well know that the whole weight of your Highness's displeasure will fall upon me, and yet is the moment come in which I can neither deny nor recede, nor yet keep silence. Oh! Duchess, I am grieved, inconsolable. I feel how much you will blame my truly unhappy attachment. I love-I love-the Duke's Secret Agent! (During the last sentences the Duchess has slowly risen; the Princess falls at her feet.) Duchess. Horror! You shall learn to know me, Princess ! (Hurries out in great anger. The Duke steps for ward, gently raises the Princess, and kisses her hand.) Princess. Oh, heavens! Your Highness has overheard me ! Duke. Yes, Eugenie, it was the happiest moment of my life. How heartily do I thank you, in my own name, (smiling) and in that of my Secret Agent. Early in the fourth act occurs a long and not unimportant scene between the Grand Chamberlain and Oscar. The young Count is greatly amused to see the whole court electrified by the proceedings of the Secret Agent, and its chief personages dancing just as the Duke pleases to pull the strings. He ventures a shrewd suspicion that the Secret Agent is an imaginary be ing, and that the Duke is amusing himself at the expense of all around him. The Chamberlain is down upon him like lightning. Oscar had asserted that he had conversed with the Secret Agent, and that he was an old college friend of his. He now admits that he was previously unacquainted with the young man he met in the park, and that his uncle had jested when he said Duchess. Unheard-of boldness! When did that they had been at college together. The Duchess. What do I hear, unhappy girl? How must I understand your words? You love? Duke, (aside.) 'Tis the first time that I play the eavesdropper, and assuredly it shall be the last; but who would now quit this place? Princess. Yes, I love. |