Poems

by George Pope Morris

Scene III.

An Apartment in the Gallery of Paintings at Sans Souci. Enter ALBERT and WEDGEWOOD
in haste, meeting the COUNTESS LANISKA.

ALBERT.
Have you seen the king?

COUNTESS.
His Majesty has not yet appeared.

WEDGEWOOD. A crate of mouldy straw for your warlike government! (Snaps his fingers.) That for your soldier-like system of doing business! I wouldn't give a broken basin for it! Why, the commanding officer has only to say, "Hang me up that tall fellow like a scarecrow," and up he goes—tzck!—or, "Give me that short chap the cat-o'-nine-tails," and, whack, he has it—or, "Shoot me yonder half-dozen specimens of humanity," and bang, 'tis done!

(Enter FREDERICK, followed by HAROLD, unperceived, at the back of the stage.)

ALBERT.
If the king would but listen to reason—

WEDGEWOOD. Ay, but he won't! I never saw such a resolute old curmudgeon; and then he's so proud, too! He's like a hard-baked stone jar—he won't bend anyhow. I know why he gave me his snuff-box: it was because I happened to help myself to a pinch out of the dirty old trumpery! If he, or you, or all of you, by any chance happened to live in England, or any other civilized country, this poor count, and the girl too, would have an impartial hearing before they were condemned.

COUNTESS.
But under this government we have blessings unknown to yours—

WEDGEWOOD. But me no buts, madam! Give me the blessings of living under a government where no man can be condemned without a fair trail by jury, madam. To you Prussians, this is a matter of favor; but to us Englishmen, it is a matter of right!

COUNTESS.
Would to Heaven that my son and this poor girl could have such a trial!—

ALBERT.
And would to Heaven I might plead their cause!

(The KING, who has paid great attention to their conversation, walks down the stage, and suddenly stands in the midst of them. They all start, and fall back.)

KING.
On one condition you shall—

OMNES.
The king!

KING.
On one condition, young man, your prayer shall be granted.

ALBERT.
Name it, sire—

KING. If you fail to convince the judges of their innocence, that you shall share their punishment. Do you agree?

ALBERT.
I do, and set my life upon the issue.

KING. Your life shall answer for it if you fail. (To HAROLD.) Give orders that the hall of the castle be immediately prepared for the trial. Use dispatch, Harold! [Exit HAROLD.] (To the COUNTESS.) You, madam, I believe to be wholly ignorant of your son's treachery.

COUNTESS.
If he be guilty—

KING (sarcastically.)
IF he be guilty, madam?

COUNTESS. Yes, sire; if he has forgotten what Your Majesty has done for Poland, he is no son of mine!

KING.
I shall spare you all the reflections I have made on the subject, madam. Tyrant as
I am, I shall not punish the innocent mother for the guilty son. But perhaps this
gentleman [ALBERT] and you [WEDGEWOOD] recommended trial—

WEDGEWOOD.
Trial by jury! Your Majesty has said it! There's freedom in the very words!

KING.
How is it to be managed?

WEDGEWOOD.
Managed, Your Majesty? Why, according to law and justice.

KING.
Good!

WEDGEWOOD.
Twelve honest, upright, free, and independent men are empanelled to hear the case—

KING.
Good again!

WEDGEWOOD. All the witnesses are examined, and all the testimony fairly summed up by learned counsel!

KING.
Excellent!

WEDGEWOOD. Then the grave expounders of the law—the judges—charge the jury, who, upon their oaths, return a verdict—

KING.
A glorious institution!

WEDGEWOOD. The shield and protection of the rights of man—the bulwark of civil and religious liberty—and the admiration of the whole civilized world! Democratically odd!

KING.
Well—well—well—so justice be done, I care not for the means.

WEDGEWOOD. By jingo, he genuine porcelain! It's all right—fair, square, and above board—a clear field and no favor!

(Enter HAROLD.)

HAROLD. Everything is in preparation. The judges are proceeding to their seats; the jury will soon be sworn, and the prisoners arraigned at the bar—

WEDGEWOOD (to HAROLD.)
Who's the crier of the court?

HAROLD.
That office is not yet filled. [Exit.

WEDGEWOOD.
That won't do—Illegally odd!

KING.
Perhaps, Mr. Wedgewood, you would like the appointment yourself?

WEDGEWOOD.
If it is convenient.

KING.
I confer it upon you.

WEDGEWOOD. Thank Your Majesty. By Jove, we're sailing with wind and tide—a smooth sea below and a clear sky above us!

KING. Well, gentlemen, I wish you a prosperous voyage; but take care that you do not run your vessel upon the rocks of litigation, and founder among the quicksands of the law.

WEDGEWOOD. No danger, Your Majesty, with such a pilot! [ALBERT.]—(Sudden and loud shouts and confused noise without. Drums beat to arms.) What is the meaning of all this commotion?

(Enter HAROLD, in haste.)

KING.
Out with it, Harold!

HAROLD. The rumor of the treachery and ingratitude of the prisoners has spread like wildfire throughout the city—

KING.
Well!—

HAROLD. The populace are in a ferment at the indignity offered to our beloved monarch, and demand the instant execution of the prisoners.

KING.
Well, well; say on.

HAROLD. The multitude crowd every avenue to the palace, and the chateau of the countess; and the royal guards are under arms to preserve the public peace.

KING.
So, so, so, so—

COUNTESS.
O Heaven! what will become of us?

KING (proudly.) Have you not the king's protection? I will appear among my children, who are so apprehensive about my safety, that they sometimes forget themselves, and become a little unruly. They will be satisfied when they hear and see their father. (Seeing the COUNTESS look dejected.) Do not droop madam; your GUILTY SON shall have a fair and impartial trial. (Taking her hand—To ALBERT sternly.) Look to it, sir; for if you fail, you know what follows! (Exit FREDERICK and COUNTESS—Immense cheering and beating of drums without.)

WEDGEWOOD. Bravo! He's a trump.—Bless me! a popular commotion!—No matter—I am crier of the court! Let me catch any of the little boys making a noise in the halls of justice—that's all! I'll make the king himself mind his P's and Q's, if he dares to interfere with OUR grave deliberations! I will act as becomes my station. His Majesty has a jewel in me, and I'll convince him that authority in my hands is a knock-down argument—so-fist-ically odd!

SONG—WEDGEWOOD.
That law's the perfection of reason,
No one in his senses denies;
Yet here is a trial for treason
Will puzzle the wigs of the wise.
The lawyers who bring on the action
On one single point will agree,
Though proved to their own satisfaction
That tweedle-dum's NOT tweedle-dee!

To settle disputes, in a fury
The sword from the scabbard we draw;
But reason appeals to a jury,
And settles—according to law.
Then hey for the woolsack!—for never
Without it can nations be free;
But trial by jury for ever!
And for tyranny—fiddle-de-dee!

[Exit.