⁠I hope thy lady is still asleep? ⁠O, no! I wish she were. She called me a few minutes since, and I am going to her again. ⁠Is she aware how long she has slept? ⁠No; she thinks it still early, and I have not undeceived her. ⁠Thou hast done right, Jeanette. Ha! she is up already! ⁠I have had a deep and death-like sleep. It ​was strange that I should sleep so at such a time as this. ⁠And you feel yourself refreshed, I hope? ⁠I know not: I waked in confused bewilderment, which gave me a few moments of idiot-like insensibility; but the dismal truth broke upon me at once: it was the blow of a leaden mace upon my breast; I had better not have slept at all. But I am early enough to get to him ere he leave the prison. (Looking at a timepiece on the wall of the room.) Good heaven! it is long past the hour! he is already at the court, and I have not seen him. Why was I not called? Bring me my mantle. No, I'll stay for nothing. ⁠There is a person below, who would speak with you, lady, on particular and important business. ⁠His business should be such, indeed, who comes at an hour like the present. ⁠Didst thou ever see him before? ​ ⁠I can scarcely say, Madam; his face is so concealed by his bonnet and the buttoned-up collar of his cloak: but he is tall, and somewhat stately. ⁠Let him come to me immediately.

⁠[Exit Servant.
(To Margaret and the Maid.) Leave me; I would see him alone.

⁠I dare not leave you, you tremble so.

⁠Don't mind that, but leave me.

⁠[Exit Margaret, &c. ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​

A narrow Lobby or Passage, leading to the Hall of Justice. Several People discovered, passing or loitering about.

⁠Stop, friend: thou art from the court? ⁠Ay, with half the learning even of a monk, you may guess that. ⁠Thou shalt enjoy thy joke unanswered, Officer. Thou art by office indifferent to the fate of an unhappy panel; but thou wert an obliging fellow once, before thou wert spoilt by preferment, and now thou canst do me a favour. ⁠Mention it, good Father. I ought to have reverenced your cloth for your sake, if I do not reverence you for the sake of your cloth. ​ ⁠Has the advocate for the prisoner finished his defence? ⁠Ay, Heaven be thanked! I thought it would never have an end. He has just concluded it. ⁠Return to the court, then, and desire him to come to me here, without loss of time. I have something of importance to communicate to him. ⁠I will, Father.⁠ [Exit. ⁠Woe is me that human nature should come to this! The pride and spirits of that creature, now, rise on an occasion like this. The condemnation or execution of a fellow-creature creates no other feeling in him but the enjoyment of increased importance and comparative security! Yet there was some good in him once. (Pauses thoughtfully.) There was good in him once: his first confession consisted of one petty crime, for which he seemed to be most penitent. But the steps of the confessional is a spot which he has long forsaken. ​ ⁠You have something to communicate, good Father? ⁠Move a little this way: I have words for thy ear in secret. ⁠Has any thing occurred to throw light on this mystery? any thing in favour of my unhappy client? who comports himself with the sober dejection of a man resigned to his fate, though he firmly asserts his innocence; and I, so help me God! as firmly believe him. ⁠I am glad thou dost. ⁠I could sit down and weep for his sake, he has so wound himself round my heart in the course of this dismal transaction. ⁠Be comforted, my son; thou canst do better things for him than that. ⁠Instruct me, reverend Father. ​ ⁠Produce in court the voluntary evidence of his confessor. ⁠How is this? You said to me last night that he had confessed nothing. ⁠There is no time to question me on this point now. I shall presently present myself before the judges, as evidence to exculpate the prisoner; and when the oath has been administered——I pray thee move further this way: we may be overheard.⁠ [Exeunt.

The Hall of Justice. Two Judges sitting in state; the Prisoner at the Bar; Kranzberg and Borion, and all the Attendants, &c. of a full Court.

⁠

Maurice Van Maurice, baron and citizen of this imperial city, we have heard your defence from the mouth of your advocate, pled with eloquence and ability, though opposed to much strong uncontradicted evidence against you: is ​there any thing further which you wish to urge in your own behalf?
⁠[Van Maurice remains silent.]

⁠Baron; if you can offer any good plea why the sentence of the law should not be pronounced against you, as the murderer of your kinsman, Baron Hartman, let not this opportunity pass. We must otherwise proceed without delay. ⁠Most honourable judges: The evidences against me are so strong, that I am compelled to confess, were such insufficient to convict a prisoner, there is scarcely a panel who at this or any other bar could be convicted. I have nothing to urge against your sentence, but that which I know you cannot and ought not to receive,—a simple and unqualified assertion of mine own innocence. ⁠There is no occasion to say further. ⁠Pardon me, my Lord, there is occasion; and I am permitted so to do. ⁠Proceed, then. ​ ⁠I am well aware that an assertion of mine own innocence cannot be received for my exculpation, even when I recall to your consideration, that I am the son of an honourable father, who has served the state in the senate and the field, and shed his blood for that service in the only way in which it becomes blood to be shed, that is derived from a source so honourable: that I have been reared under his eye, in rectitude and truth, which has never yet on any occasion been impugned: that love of worldly wealth, the only motive for committing the crime with which I am charged, is a propensity from which I am known to be altogether free. It cannot, I repeat, be received for my exculpation, but may surely, when joined to such considerations, well justify your acceding to my earnest request, that you would grant me three weeks' delay, ere your verdict be pronounced, that I may if possible prove mine innocence. ​ ⁠He's right, he's right; he speaks good reason, sooth! ⁠Silence in the court. ⁠Ye pity me, and I do thank you for it. ​ ⁠Again I say, keep silence in the court! (Turning to the prisoner.) You aver that you are innocent; and if this be so, it is at least known to you, who is the guilty person. Name him, then, that justice may take its course, and you shall have full time allowed you to prove your assertion. Refusing to do this, you become your own destroyer, and have no right to cast the blame upon us. ⁠I have said, my Lords, that I cannot do this without betraying confidence; and were I to do so, should I deserve to be believed in any ​thing I might reveal? He who betrays confidence to save himself, may utter falsehoods also from the same urgent temptation. And this is your determination?

⁠[Van Maurice bows.]

⁠You screw your sense of honour, noble Baron, to the romantic pitch. Consider better of it. Is this your final determination? [Van Maurice bows again.] Then, though most painfully, we must proceed to give sentence as the law directs.

⁠Stop, my Lords. In this extremity, I am warranted to bring forward evidence to exculpate my client, which might not otherwise have been justifiable. This holy Father hath that to reveal which concerns the life and honour of the prisoner, and I claim that he may be heard. ⁠Reveal penitential confessions! ⁠Yes, my Lord, to save the life of an innocent person; and show me that law of God or man which forbids it. ​ ⁠He must speak upon oath. ⁠Let it be administered to him as you please. ⁠Let him be sworn. ⁠What is the matter, good father? ⁠I am somewhat faint; may I be permitted to withdraw for a few moments?

⁠You are permitted.⁠ [Exit Father Francis.

⁠This monk, methinks, is strangely seized on the sudden. Will a lie or two choke a friar? ⁠If thou canst find one man in Lubeck who doubts the veracity of Father Francis, make that a plea for setting aside his evidence: thou hast my leave to do so. ​ ⁠Has Father Francis confessed any one concerned in this matter? ⁠Why else should he volunteer this evidence? ⁠Declare to us what thou knowest of this atrocious deed. ⁠That which is only known to Heaven, the prisoner, and myself, I will declare; and nothing but the truth shall pass these lips. ⁠Proceed without further prelude. ⁠The panel at your bar was, on the fatal evening when Baron Hartman was slain—— ⁠Gentle expression! I should say—murdered. ⁠Interrupt not the witness. ⁠Well, be it termed as you please. I say, he, your panel, was the whole of that evening ​shut up within the walls of his own library, when Count Claudien, his friend, entered the room by a private door from the garden, with blood on his hands and agony in his heart. ⁠Thou liest, false priest! I made to thee no such confession. Mine own sins, and mine own alone, were revealed to thee. (To the Judges.) Regard not what he says, for he is perjured. ⁠Silence! do not interrupt him: it is for us to judge of this matter. (To the Confessor.) Proceed. ⁠He entered, as I have said, with blood upon his hands, and told, in much agony of mind, to this, your noble prisoner, that he had been, a short half-hour before, attacked near the ramparts by Baron Hartman, who rushed furiously upon him with his drawn sword: that they fought, and Hartman was disarmed; upon which he treacherously drew his dagger, attempting to stab him; but he, this Claudien, being the stronger man, threw the other upon the ground, and bent over him with one knee upon his breast. (A pause.) ​ ⁠Proceed; art thou ill again? ⁠He will recover breath presently; give him time. ⁠In this position were those unfortunate adversaries, when Hartman, in passion, uttered words most false and injurious of a lady beloved by Claudien; upon which, this unhappy Claudien drew his own dagger from his belt, and stabbed him to the heart. That was the blood-stained dagger found in the apartment of Van Maurice. ⁠But wilt thou also swear that Claudien came not into thy library on that fatal night, and told thee a story similar to that which I now repeat? ​ ⁠Will any one be fooled by such bungling jugglers playing into one another's hands so palpably? ⁠Most honourable Judges, I think you cannot admit of such evidence as this. There is collusion here. ⁠Is there any farther evidence to produce? (A pause.) I presume there is none. ⁠Come this way, friar. ⁠No speaking privately to a witness in court. ⁠The evidence being closed, it may now be admitted. ​ ⁠Not far distant, Maurice. ⁠We shall know presently what all those juggling deceptions of yours will produce. Thou hast trained thy actors to admiration. But honesty is the best policy after all; this good saying I have always maintained. ⁠As far as words will go, sapient Sir; and the fate of thy last night's treachery has confirmed it. A laudable consistency of character, when both words and actions teach the same lesson. ⁠They are long of coming to a decision. ⁠Nay, they have consulted but a little while. ⁠I have sat on that bench a long time. ​ ⁠But a few minutes, dear Baron. ⁠Not yet gone! ⁠Did you expect him to go? ⁠My understanding had left me: I knew not what to expect. ⁠Hush! the Judges are preparing to pronounce sentence. ⁠Is it for life or death? (Averting his eyes hastily.) It is not life. ⁠Baron Van Maurice, having duly considered the evidence against you, and that also which has been produced in your favour, we feel ourselves constrained to pronounce upon you the sentence of the law. And forasmuch as murders have, of late years, become more frequent amongst people of noble condition, we see good to revive, upon this occasion, a law which has been too long laid aside.—Maurice Van Maurice, for this atrocious murder which you have ​committed, we condemn you to be broken alive upon the wheel; and to-morrow, before mid-day, this sentence shall be executed on your mortal body. May God be merciful to your immortal soul, which you have put into such fearful jeopardy! ⁠Undo his cowl, and give him a cup of water. ⁠Let him alone. It is only a momentary weakness: he revives. ⁠Let go thy hold: I am well now, and think I shall be strong. (Advancing with a stately step in front of the Judges.) My Lords, I needs must strongly raise my voice against this sentence which ye have pronounced upon a man most innocent. ​ ⁠What proof givest thou of this, and who art thou who hast twice this day addressed us with mien and air so varied, and two such different voices?—— ⁠The man who did the deed: the unhappy Claudien. ⁠And thou confessest thyself to be the murderer of Hartman? ​ ⁠How camest thou hither? Didst thou not sail in the Mermaid, bound for Copenhagen? ⁠I did: but agony of mind wrung from me, unawares, some words of exclamation and disclosure, which one of the crew overheard; and when that tempest, which lately rocked your walls, began to vex our course, and put the ship in peril, this man accused me as a murderer. The frightened mariners would no longer share the risk with such an unblessed passenger, and I was cast into the deep. ​

And see, who kneels before you! one who knelt not for his own life; who never, till this moment, bent his honoured knee but to that Almighty Judge, who hath commanded weak and erring men to be merciful, that they may obtain mercy.
⁠[The Judges whisper to one another.]

⁠Thy case, Count Claudien, is piteous, though thou art very guilty. We must withdraw awhile before we make any reply to thy appeal for mercy.⁠ [The Judges withdraw.] ⁠Who would not live or die for such a man? My noble friend! but thou shalt live. The very stones of these walls will cry out against them, if they have not mercy on thee. ⁠If the Judges suffer themselves to be deluded ​with all this mummery, they are no true successors of King Solomon. ⁠Deceit dwells within thine own miserable breast, and thou perceivest deceit in every thing. ⁠There is little penetration required in this case. It is a mighty convenient thing to have the dagger of a friend and brother-in-law to clear one's way to a rich inheritance. ⁠Thou liest most foully and most wickedly. ⁠The lie to me! thou half-condemned felon! ⁠Attack an unarmed man, thou hellish caitiff! This hand of mine is fated to shed blood. Caitiff as he is, I wish I had not slain him. ​ ⁠See how he gathers in his wrung and withering features, as if he cursed us all in the very agonies of death. ⁠Say not so! say not so! Who can divine the thoughts of a dying man, be he ever so wicked?—He is dead now, and I may soon be as him. ⁠What sayest thou? There is blood from thy side: thou art wounded. ⁠I am faint and sick: let me have air, I pray you. ⁠This is our decision. Forasmuch as the murder of Hartman was not a premeditated act, but perpetrated, though unjustifiably, in a moment of provocation and passion; and further, that the criminal hath delivered himself up to justice, making full confession of the crime, we remit the punishment of death, and condemn the Count Claudien of Denmark to perpetual banishment from the city and territories of Lubeck. In four and twenty hours from this time, thou must ​depart. Being ever again seen within the realm, after that period, death, according to the utmost rigour of the law, is thy portion. ⁠I thank your clemency. If my soul and body keep together so long, I will obey you; but if otherwise, ye will not refuse to my mortal remains a spot of earth for their resting-place, and the dust of your land to cover them.—This is my request:—that I lie——may lie where my friend——(Struggling in vain to keep down his emotion.)—I thank your clemency.

⁠(Is supported by Van Maurice.)

⁠What means this? has he slain himself?—And who lies here? Kranzberg dead, and bathed in blood! Such outrage in a court of justice!—Who permitted it? Everyone present is answerable to the law for this. ⁠Kranzberg, in the rage of disappointment, was, as Borion and all here present can witness, the aggressor. We endeavoured to separate them, but ere we could effect it, these bleeding wounds were given and received. ​ ⁠Do not give way to such frantic lamentations; he is severely wounded, but may yet recover. Have patience and do not distract him with outrageous sorrow. ​ ⁠He is very faint, and hears not what thou sayest.