AGATHA. Tell me, dear child, how you have pa.s.sed the five years since you left me.

FREDERICK. Both good and bad, mother. To day plenty--to-morrow not so much--And sometimes nothing at all.

AGATHA. You have not written to me this long while.

FREDERICK. Dear mother, consider the great distance I was from you!--And then, in the time of war, how often letters miscarry.--Besides ----

AGATHA. No matter now I see you. But have you obtained your discharge?

FREDERICK. Oh, no, mother--I have leave of absence only for two months; and that for a particular reason. But I will not quit you so soon, now I find you are in want of my a.s.sistance.

AGATHA. No, no, Frederick; your visit will make me so well, that I shall in a very short time recover strength to work again; and you must return to your regiment when your furlough is expired. But you told me leave of absence was granted you for a particular reason.--What reason?

FREDERICK. When I left you five years ago, you gave me every thing you could afford, and all you thought would be necessary for me. But one trifle you forgot, which was, the certificate of my birth from the church-book.--You know in this country there is nothing to be done without it. At the time of parting from you, I little thought it could be of that consequence to me which I have since found it would have been. Once I became tired of a soldier's life, and in the hope I should obtain my discharge, offered myself to a master to learn a profession; but his question was, "Where is your certificate from the church-book of the parish in which you were born?" It vexed me that I had not it to produce, for my comrades laughed at my disappointment.

My captain behaved kinder, for he gave me leave to come home to fetch it--and you see, mother, here I am.

[During this speech Agatha is confused and agitated.

AGATHA. So, you are come for the purpose of fetching your certificate from the church-book.

FREDERICK. Yes, mother.

AGATHA. Oh! oh!

FREDERICK. What is the matter? [She bursts into tears.] For heaven's sake, mother, tell me what's the matter?

AGATHA. You have no certificate.

FREDERICK. No!

AGATHA. No.--The laws of Germany excluded you from being registered at your birth--for--you are a natural son!

FREDERICK [starts--after a pause]. So!--And who is my father?

AGATHA. Oh Frederick, your wild looks are daggers to my heart.

Another time.

FREDERICK [endeavouring to conceal his emotion]. No, no--I am still your son--and you are still my mother. Only tell me, who is my father?

AGATHA. When we parted five years ago, you were too young to be intrusted with a secret of so much importance.--But the time is come when I can, in confidence, open my heart, and unload that burthen with which it has been long oppressed. And yet, to reveal my errors to my child, and sue for his mild judgment on my conduct ----

FREDERICK. You have nothing to sue for; only explain this mystery.

AGATHA. I will, I will. But--my tongue is locked with remorse and shame. You must not look at me.

FREDERICK. Not look at you! Cursed be that son who could find his mother guilty, although the world should call her so.

AGATHA. Then listen to me, and take notice of that village, [pointing]

of that castle, and of that church. In that village I was born--in that church I was baptized. My parents were poor, but reputable farmers.--The lady of that castle and estate requested them to let me live with her, and she would provide for me through life. They resigned me; and at the age of fourteen I went to my patroness. She took pleasure to instruct me in all kinds of female literature and accomplishments, and three happy years had pa.s.sed under protection, when her only son, who was an officer in the Saxon service, obtained permission to come home. I had never seen him before--he was a handsome young man--in my eyes a prodigy; for he talked of love, and promised me marriage. He was the first man who ever spoken to me on such a subject.--His flattery made me vain, and his repeated vows--Don't look at me, dear Frederick!--I can say no more. [Frederick with his eyes cast down, takes her hand, and puts it to his heart.]

Oh! oh! my son! I was intoxicated by the fervent caresses of a young, inexperienced, capricious man, and did not recover from the delirium till it was too late.

FREDERICK [after a pause]. Go on.--Let me know more of my father.

AGATHA. When the time drew near that I could no longer conceal my guilt and shame, my seducer prevailed upon me not to expose him to the resentment of his mother. He renewed his former promises of marriage at her death;--on which relying, I gave him my word to be secret--and I have to this hour buried his name deep in my heart.

FREDERICK. Proceed, proceed! give me full information--I will have courage to hear it all. [Greatly agitated.]

AGATHA. His leave of absence expired, he returned to his regiment, depending on my promise, and well a.s.sured of my esteem. As soon as my situation became known, I was questioned, and received many severe reproaches: But I refused to confess who was my undoer; and for that obstinacy was turned from the castle.--I went to my parents; but their door was shut against me. My mother, indeed, wept as she bade me quit her sight for ever; but my father wished increased affliction might befall me.

FREDERICK [weeping]. Be quick with your narrative, or you'll break my heart.

AGATHA. I now sought protection from the old clergyman of the parish.

He received me with compa.s.sion. On my knees I begged forgiveness for the scandal I had caused to his parishioners; promised amendment; and he said he did not doubt me. Through his recommendation I went to town; and hid in humble lodgings, procured the means of subsistence by teaching to the neighbouring children what I had learnt under the tuition of my benefactress.---To instruct you, my Frederick, was my care and delight; and in return for your filial love I would not thwart your wishes when they led to a soldier's life: but my health declined, I was compelled to give up my employment, and, by degrees, became the object you now see me. But, let me add, before I close my calamitous story, that--when I left the good old clergyman, taking along with me his kind advice and his blessing, I left him with a firm determination to fulfil the vow I had made of repentance and amendment. I _have_ fulfilled it--and now, Frederick, you may look at me again. [He embraces her.]

FREDERICK. But my father all this time? [mournfully] I apprehend he died.

AGATHA. No--he married.

FREDERICK. Married!

AGATHA. A woman of virtue--of n.o.ble birth and immense fortune. Yet, [weeps] I had written to him many times; had described your infant innocence and wants; had glanced obliquely at former promises--

FREDERICK [rapidly]. No answer to these letters?

AGATHA. Not a word.--But in time of war, you know, letters miscarry.

FREDERICK. Nor did he ever return to this estate?

AGATHA. No--since the death of his mother this castle has only been inhabited by servants--for he settled as far off as Alsace, upon the estate of his wife.

FREDERICK. I will carry you in my arms to Alsace. No--why should I ever know my father, if he is a villain! My heart is satisfied with a mother.--No--I will not go to him. I will not disturb his peace--O leave that task to his conscience. What say you, mother, can't we do without him? [Struggling between tears and his pride.] We don't want him. I will write directly to my captain. Let the consequence be what it will, leave you again I cannot. Should I be able to get my discharge, I will work all day at the plough, and all the night with my pen. It will do, mother, it will do! Heaven's goodness will a.s.sist me--it will prosper the endeavours of a dutiful son for the sake of a helpless mother.

AGATHA [presses him to her breast]. Where could be found such another son?

FREDERICK. But tell me my father's name, that I may know how to shun him.

AGATHA. Baron Wildenhaim.

FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim! I shall never forget it.--Oh! you are near fainting. Your eyes are cast down. What's the matter? Speak, mother!

AGATHA. Nothing particular.--Only fatigued with talking. I wish to take a little rest.

FREDERICK. I did not consider that we have been all this time in the open road. [Goes to the Inn, and knocks at the door.] Here, Landlord!

LANDLORD re-enters.

LANDLORD. Well, what is the matter now?