# A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Three/The Dream Act 3

ACT III.
SCENE I.—The Prison-chamber of the Monastery: Osterloo is discovered, sitting in a bending Posture, with his clenched Hands pressed upon his Knees and his Eyes fixed on the Ground, Jerome standing by him.
Jer. Nay, sink not thus, my Son; the mercy of Heaven is infinite. Let other thoughts enter thy soul: let penitence and devotion subdue it.
Ost. Nothing but one short moment of division between this state of humanity and that which is to follow! The executioner lets fall his axe, and the dark veil is rent; the gulf is uncovered; the regions of anguish are before me.
Jer. My Son, my Son! this must not be; thine imagination overpowers thy devotion.
Ost. The dead are there; and what welcome shall the murderer receive from that assembled host? Oh, the terrible form that stalks forth to meet me! the stretching out of that hand! the greeting of that horrible smile! And it is thou, who must lead me before the tremendous majesty of my offended Maker! Incomprehensible and dreadful! What thoughts can give an image of that which overpowers all thought!
(Clasping his hands tightly over his head, and bending himself almost to the ground.)
Jer. (after a pause.) Art thou, entranced? art thou asleep? art thou still in those inward agonies of imagination? (Touching him softly.) Speak to me.
Ost. (starting up.) Are they come for me? They shall not yet: I'll strangle the first man that lays hold of me. (Grasping Jerome by the throat.)
Jer. Let go your hold, my Lord; I did but touch you gently to rouse you from your stupor.
(Osterloo lets go his hold, and Jerome shrinks to a distance.)
Ost. I have grasped thee, then, too roughly. But shrink not from me thus. Strong men have fallen by my arm, but a child might contend with me now.
(Throwing himself back again into his chair, and bursting into tears.)
Jer. Forgive me, my Son, there was a wildness in your eyes that made me afraid.
Ost. Thou need'st not be afraid: thou art a good man, and hast days of life still before thee; thou need'st not be afraid.————————But, as thou art a good man, speak to me, I conjure thee, as a man, not as a monk: answer me as the true sense and reason of a man doth convince thee.
Jer. I will, my Son.
Ost. Dost thou in truth believe, that the very instant after life has left the body, we are forthwith awake and conscious in the world of Spirits? No intermediate state of slumbering insensibility between?
​ Jer. It is indeed my belief. Death is but a short though awful pass; as it were a winking of the eyes for a moment. We shut them in this world and open them in the next: and there we open them with such increased vividness of existence, that this life, in comparison, will appear but as a state of slumber and of dreams.————But wherefore dost thou cross thine arms so closely on thy breast, and coil thyself together so wretchedly? What is the matter, my Son? Art thou in bodily anguish?
Ost. The chilly night shoots icy coldness through me.
Jer. O regard not the poor feelings of a fleshly frame, which thou so soon must part withal: a little time will now put an end to every thing that nature can endure.
Ost. (raising his head quickly.)
Ha! how soon? Has the bell struck again since I listened to it last?
Jer. No; but it will soon strike, and daybreak is at hand. Rouse ye then, and occupy the few minutes that remain in acts of devotion becoming thine unhappy state. O, my Son, pour out thy soul in penitent prayers to an offended but merciful God. We, too, will pray for thee. Months, nay years after thy death, masses shall be said for the repose of thy soul, that it may at last be received into bliss. O my unhappy Son! pour forth thy spirit to God; and let thy prayers also ascend to our blessed Saint and Martyr, who will intercede for thee.
​ Ost. I cannot: I have not thoughts for prayer,—the gulph yawns before me—the unknown, the unbounded, the unfathomable!—Prayers! prayers! what prayers hath despair?
Jer. Hold, hold, refractory Sprit! This obstinacy is destruction.——————I must call in brother Bernard to assist me: I cannot be answerable alone, in a service of such infinite moment.
(Exit; and after a pause, in which Osterloo seems absorbed in the stupor of despair, enter Leonora disguised.)
——————————It is, it is! but Oh, how changed! Thy hand, great God! has been upon him. (Going closer to him.)
Osterloo! Osterloo!
Ost. I hear thee. Father.
Leo. (throwing aside her disguise.)
Oh no! it is no Father. Lift up thine eyes and see an old friend before thee, with deliverance in her hand. (Holding out a key.)
Ost. (looking up wildly.) Is it a sound in my ears, or did any one say deliverance? (Gazing on her.)
What thing art thou? A form of magic or delusion?
​ Leo. Neither, Count Osterloo; but an old friend, bringing this key in her hand for thy deliverance. Yet much I fear thou hast not strength enough to rise and follow me.
Ost. (bounding from his seat.) I have strength for any thing if there be deliverance in it.—Where go we? They will be upon us immediately.
Ost. Yes, blessed being! I will follow thee.—Ha! they are coming!
(Strides hastily to the door, while Leonora holds up the lamp to light him into it, and then going in herself, shuts the door softly behind her.)
SCENE II.
An old ruinous Vault, with a strong grated Door on one side, through which the Moon-beams are gleaming: on the other Side, an old winding staircase, leading from the upper Regions of the Monastery, from which a feeble Light is seen, increasing by degrees; and presently Leonora appears, descending the Stairs with a Lamp in her Hand, followed by Osterloo. ​As she enters, something on the Wall catches her Robe, and she turns round to disentangle it, bending her Face close to the Light.
Ost. (stopping to assist her, and then gazing on her.) Thou art something I have known and loved somewhere, though it has passed away from my mind with all my better thoughts.————Great power of Heaven! art thou Leonora?
Leo. (smiling.) Dost thou know me now?
Ost. I do, I do! My heart knew thee before, but my memory did not. (Kneeling and kissing both her hands.)
And so it is to thee—thou whom I first loved—Pardon me, pardon me!—thou whom I loved, and dared not love; thou from whom I fled to be virtuous—thou art my deliverer. Oh! had I never loved another after thee, it had been well.————————Knowest thou it is a murderer thou art saving?
Leo. Say no more of this: I know thy story, and I came——
Ost. O! thou earnest like a blessed Spirit to deliver me from many horrors. I was terribly beset: thou hast snatched me from a tremendous brink.
Leo. I hope so, if this key prove to be the right one.
Ost. (alarmed.) Dost thou doubt it?
Leo. It seems to me smaller than it ought to be, when I consider that massive door.
​ Ost. Give it me.
(Snatches the key from her, and runs to the door; then turns the key in the lock, and finding it too small, stamps with his feet, throws it from him, and holds up his clenched hands in despair.)
Leo. Oh, cross fate! But I'll return again for the right one. Baldwin cannot be so wicked as to deceive me, and Benedict is still on the watch, near the door of the prison-chamber. Stay here till I return.
(She ascends the stairs, whilst Osterloo leans his back to the wall, frequently moving his body up and down with impatient agitation: a bell tolls; Osterloo starts from his place, and Leonora descends again, re-entering in great alarm.)
Leo. Oh! I cannot go now: that bell tolls to warn them to the great hall: I shall meet them on their way. What is to be done? The strength of three men could not force that heavy door, and thou art feeble and spent.
Ost. (running furiously to the door.)
Despair has strength for any thing.
(Seizes hold of the door, and, making two or three terrible efforts, bursts it open with a loud jar.)
Leo. Supernatural strength has assisted thee: now thou art free.
Wov. Hold! we are the Prior's Soldiers, and will suffer no prisoner to escape.
Ost. Those who dare prevent me!
(Wrests a sword from one of the Soldiers, and, fighting furiously, forces his way past them all, they not daring to pursue him; when Wovelreid seizing on Leonora to prevent her from following him, she calls out.)
Leo. O let me pass! and I'll reward you nobly.
Ost. (returning to rescue Leonora.)
Let go thine unhallowed grasp.
Leo. For Heaven's sake care not for me! Save thyself—save thyself! I am in no danger. Turn not again to fight, when such terrible odds are against thee.
Ost. I have arms in my hand now, and my foes are before me! (Fights fiercely again, till Morand, with a strong band of Soldiers, entering the porch behind him, he is overpowered and secured; Leonora sinks down by the wall in a swoon.)
Wov. Give me a rope. We must bind him securely; for the Devil has put the strength of ten men into him, though, but half an hour ago, his face was as pale as a moon-light icicle, and he could scarcely walk without being supported.
​ Mor. Alas, alas! his face has returned to its former colour; his head sinks on his breast, and his limbs are again feeble and listless. I would rather see him fighting like a fiend than see him thus.
Wov. Let us move him hence; would'st thou stop to lament over him?
Mor. It was base work in Baldwin to betray their plot to the Prior, for he took their money first, I'll be sworn.
Wov. He had betrayed the Prior then, and all the community besides.
Mor. Well, let us move him hence: this is no business of ours.
[Exeunt Morand, Wovelreid and Soldiers, leading out Osterloo.
Enter Agnes by the grated door, and discovers Leonora on the ground.
Ag. O holy Virgin! On the ground, fainting and ill! Have the barbarians left her thus? (Chafing her temples and hand.) She begins to revive. It is me, my dearest Lady: look up and see me: those men are all gone.
Leo. And Osterloo with them?
Ag. Alas, he is.
Leo. It is fated so. Let me lie where I am: I cannot move yet, my good Agnes.
Ag. Nay, do not yet despair of saving the Count.
​ Leo. (starting up and catching hold of her eagerly.)
How so? is it possible?
Ag. The travellers, arrived at the castle, are the Imperial Ambassador and his train. Night overtook them on the mountains, and they are now making merry in the hall.
Leo. Thank Heaven for this! Providence has sent him hither. I'll go to him instantly, and conjure him to interpose, his authority to save the life of Osterloo. Representing his liege Lord, the Emperor, the Prior dare not disobey his commands, and the gates of the monastery will be opened at his call. Who comes here? Let us go.
Re-enter Morand.
Mor. (to Leonora.) You are revived again: I am glad to see it. Pardon me, Lady, that I forgot you in your extremity, and let me conduct you safely to the castle.
Leo. I thank you, but my servants are without. Let me go. Don't follow me, I pray you.
Mor. Let me support you through the porch; and I'll leave you to their care, since you desire it. [Exeunt, Leonora supported by Morand and Agnes. ​
SCENE III.
A grand Hall, prepared for the Execution; Soldiers are discovered drawn up on each side of the Scaffold, with Benedict and several of the Monks on the front of the Stage. A bell tolls at measured Intervals, with a deep pause between; after which enter Morand, hanging his Head sorrowfully.)
Ben. (to Mor.) Is he come forth?
1st Monk. Hast thou seen him ?
Mor. They are leading him hither, but they move slowly.
1st Monk. Thou hast seen him then; how does he look now?
Mor. I cannot tell thee. These few hours have done on him the work of many years: he seems broken and haggarded with age, and his quenched eyes are fixed in their sockets, like one who walks in sleep.
Ben. Alas, alas! how changed in little time the bold and gallant Osterloo!
1st Monk. Have I not told thee, Morand, that fear will sometimes couch under the brazen helmet as well as the woollen cowl?
Mor. Fear, dost thou call it! Set him this moment in the field of battle, with death threatening him from a hundred points at once, and he would brave it most valiantly.
Ben. (preventing 1st Monk from answering.) Hush, Brother! Be not so warm, good ​Lieutenant; we believe what thou sayest most perfectly. The bravest mind is capable of fear, though it fears no mortal man. A brave man fears not man; and an innocent and brave man united, fears nothing.
Mor. Aye, now you speak reason: call it fear then if you will.—But the Prior comes; let us go to our places.
(They arrange themselves; and, then enter the Prior, with a train of Monks, who likewise arrange themselves: a pause, in which the bell tolls as before, and enter Osterloo, supported by Jerome and Paul, Wovelreid, and Soldiers following.)
Prior. (meeting him with solemnity.) Count Osterloo; in obedience to the will of Heaven, for our own preservation, and the just punishment of guilt, I am compelled with the Monks of this monastery over whom I preside, to see duly executed within the time prescribed, this dismal act of retribution.—You have I trust, with the help of these holy men, as well as a few short moments would allow, closed your mortal account with Heaven: if there be aught that rests upon your mind, regarding worldly concerns which you leave behind you unsettled, let me know your last will, and it shall be obeyed. (To Jerome, after pausing for an answer.)
Dost thou think he understands me?
​ Jer. (to Osterloo.) Did you hear, my Son, what the Prior has been saying to you?
Ost. I heard words through a multitude of sounds.
Jer. It was the Prior, desiring to know if you have any wishes to fulfil, regarding worldly affairs left behind you unsettled.—Perhaps to your soldiers you may.
Ost. (interrupting him eagerly and looking wildly round.) My soldiers! are they here?
Jer. Ah, no! they are not here; they are housed for the night in their distant quarters: they will not be here till the setting of to-morrow's sun.
Ost. (groaning deeply.) To-morrow's sun!
Jer. Is there any wish you would have conveyed to them? Are there any of your officers to whom you would send a message or token of remembrance?
Ost. Ye speak again imperfectly, through many ringing sounds.
(Jer. repeats the question in a slow distinct voice.)
Ost. Aye there is: these, these——
(Endeavouring to tear off his cincture and some military ornaments from his dress.)
Jer. We'll assist you, my Son. (Undoing his cincture or girdle, &c.)
Ost. (still endeavouring to do it himself.)
My sword too, and my daggers—My last remembrance to them both.
​ Jer. To whom, my Lord?
Ost. Both—all of them.
(Turning to Ost. with an altered voice.)
Yes, noble Count; they shall be given as you desire with your farewell affection to all your brave followers.
Ost. I thank ye.
Jer. And this is all?
Ost. Nay, nay!
Ben. What is there besides?
Prior. (angrily.) There is too much of this: and some sudden rescue may prevent us.
Ben. Nay, reverend Father, there is no fear of this: you would not cut short the last words of a dying man?
Prior. And must I be guided by thy admonitions? beware; though Baldwin has not named thee, I know it is thou who art the traitor.
Ben. There is but one object at present to be thought of, and with your leave, reverend Father, I will not be detered from it. (to Ost. again in a voice of tenderness.) What is there besides, noble Osterloo, that you would wish us to do?
Ost. There is something.
Ben. What is it, my Lord?
Ost. I wot not.
Ben. Then let it rest.
​ Ost. Nay, nay! This—this——
(Pulling a ring from his finger, which falls on the ground.)
Ben. I have found it; and what shall I do with it?
Ost. (in a faint hurried voice.) Leonora—Leonora.
Ben. I understand you, my Lord.
Prior. I am under the necessity, Count Osterloo, of saying, your time is run to its utmost limit: let us call upon you now for your last exertion of nature. These good brothers must conduct you to the scaffold. (Jer. and Paul support him towards the scaffold, while Benedict retires to a distance, and turns his back to it.)
Jer. Rest upon me, my Son, you have but few paces to go.
Ost. The ground sinks under me; my feet tread upon nothing.
Jer. We are now at the foot of the scaffold, and there are two steps to mount: lean upon us more firmly.
Ost. (stumbling) It is dark; I cannot see.
Jer. Alas, my Son! there is a blaze of torches round you.
(After they are on the scaffold.) Now, in token of thy faith in heaven, and forgiveness of all men, raise up thy clasped hands.
(Seeing Ost. make a feeble effort, he raises them for him in a posture of devotion.)
(Jerome and Paul retire, and two Executioners prepare him for the block, and assist him to kneel. He then lays down his head, and they hold his hands, while a third Executioner stands with the raised axe.)
1st Ex. (speaking close into his ear.)
Press my hand when you are ready for the stroke. (A long pause.)
He gives no sign.
2d Ex. Stop, he will immediately. (A second pause.) Does he not?
1st Ex. No.
Prior. Then give the stroke without it.
(3d Ex. prepares to give the stroke, when the Imperial Ambassador rushes into the hall, followed by Leonora and Agnes, and a numerous train.)
Am. Stop the execution! In the name of your liege Lord the Emperor, I command you to stop upon your peril. My Lord Prior, this is a treacherous and clandestine use of your seignorial power. This noble servant of our Imperial Master (pointing to Osterloo) I take under my protection; and you must first deprive an Imperial Ambassador of life, ere one hair of his head fall to the ground.
Ben. (running to the scaffold.) Up, noble Osterloo! Raise up thy head: thou art rescued: thou art free.
​ Leo. Rise, noble Osterloo! dost thou not know the voice that calls thee?
Ben. He moves not; he is in a swoon.
(Raises Osterloo from the block, whilst Leonora bends over him with anxious tenderness.)
Leo. He is ghastly pale: yet it surely can be but a swoon. Chafe his hands, good Benedict, while I bathe his temples. (After trying to restore him.)
Oh, no, no! no change takes place. What thinkest thou of it? Is there any life here?
Ben. In truth I know not: this seems to me the fixed ghastly visage of compleat death.
Leo. Oh, no, no! he will be restored. No stroke has fallen upon him: it cannot be death. Ha! is not that something? did not his lips move?
Ben. No, Lady; you but deceive yourself; they moved not: they are closed for ever.
Leo. (wringing her hands.) Oh it is so! it is so!—after all thy struggles and exertions of despair, this is thy miserable end!—Alas, alas! thou who didst bear thy crest so proudly in many a well fought field; this is thy miserable end!
(Turning away, and hiding her face in the bosom of Agnes.)
Ambass. (examining the body more closely.)
I think in very truth he is dead.
1st Gentleman of his Train. Yes; the face ​never looks thus, till every spark of life is extinguished.
Ambass. (turning fiercely to the Prior.) How is this, Prior? What sorcery has been here, that your block alone should destroy its victim, when the stroke of the axe has been wanting? What account shall I carry to my master of the death of his gallant General?
Prior. No sorcery hath been practised on the deceased: his own mind has dealt with him alone, and produced the effects you behold. And, when you return to Lewis of Bavaria your Master; tell him that his noble General, free from personal injury of any kind, died, within the walls of this monastery, of fear.
Ambass. Nay, nay, my good Prior; put the fool's cap on thine own head, and tell him this tale thyself.———————Fear! Osterloo and fear coupled together! when the lion and the fawn are found couching in the same lair, we will believe this.
Prior. All the Brothers of the order will attest it.
Ambass. Away with the testimony of your cowled witnesses! (Beckoning Morand to come near.) Morand, thou art a brave fellow; I have known thee of old, thou art the Prior's officer indeed; but thou art now under my protection, and shalt be received into the Emperor's service with encreased rank: speak the truth then, boldly; how died Count Osterloo?
​ Mor. In very truth then, my Lord, according to my simple thoughts, he died even as the Prior has told you.
Ambass. Out upon thy hireling's tongue! art thou not ashamed, thyself wearing a soldier's garb, to blast, a soldier's fame? There is no earthly thing the brave Osterloo was ever known to fear.
Mor. You say true, my Lord; and on my sword's point I'll maintain it against any man as stoutly as yourself. But here is a pious Monk (pointing to Jerome) who will explain to you what I should speak of but lamely.
Jer. With the Prior's permission, my Lord, if you will retire with me a little while. I'll inform you of this mysterious event, even simply as it happened. And perhaps you will then confess, that, called upon suddenly, under circumstances impressing powerfully the imagination, to put off this mortal frame and stand forth in that tremendous presence, before which this globe, with all its mighty empires, hangs but as a crisped rain-drop, shivering on the threaded gossamer; the bravest mind may, if a guilty one, feel that within which is too powerful for human nature to sustain.
Ambass. Explain it as thou wilt; I shall listen to thee: but think not to cheat our Imperial Master of his revenge for the loss of his gallant General. I shall not fail, my Lord Prior, to report to him the meek spirit of your Christian authority, which has made the general weal of ​the community subservient to your private revenge; and another month, I trust, shall not pass over our heads, till a worthier man (pointing to Benedict) shall possess this power which you have so greatly abused.——————————Let the body be removed, and laid in solemn state, till it be delivered into the hands of those brave troops, who shall inter it with the honours of a Soldier.
THE END OF THE DREAM.