There has never been more uncertainty and disagreement about the production, composition, and source of any opera than about the opera of “Martha.” Among the reasonable guesses as to its source is one that Flotow found the theme for the story in a French ballet named “Lady Henriette, où la Foire de Richmond,” also, “Lady Harriette, où la Servante de Greenwich.” Among the German titles we find “Martha, oder der Markt zu Richmond,” and “Martha, oder der Maegdemarkt zu Richmond.” When all is said and done, it is still a German opera.

Flotow belonged to the petty nobility of Mecklenburg. He was destined for the diplomatic profession and his art work was continually interrupted by revolutions in his own country and in France.

He had already written a number of unimportant pieces before he undertook “Martha.” This opera was made under particularly interesting circumstances, being originally the work of three composers. The Marquis Saint-Georges the librettist of the day asked Flotow to undertake the music of one act only, as the other two had already been assigned to two different composers. This proved to be on account of a contract made by the manager of the Grand Opera with the French Government to produce a new ballet in three acts every year and the Marquis had tried to evade the contract on the ground that it would bankrupt him. The manager’s Premiere heard of this appeal, and she in her turn went to headquarters, asking that the manager be compelled to put on the piece as agreed. The next day he received an offer of 100,000 francs to mount the new ballet if he would put the dancer, Mlle. Dumilatre, into the leading part, and do it in an incredibly short time. This was how three composers brought into being the piece that one day was to become the “Martha” with which we are now familiar. After Flotow had written “Stradella” he was asked to write an opera for the court, and remembering the peculiarly carpentered piece, “Martha,” he went to Saint-Georges’s ballet for his court-opera theme. When finished it was “Martha.”

The librettist for “Martha” and another Flotow piece was Reise, but he wrote under the name of W. Friedrich. Balfe used the story for an opera which he called “The Maid of Honour.” The opera was about ten years in gaining popularity outside of Germany. It was perhaps somewhat longer than that in reaching Paris and London. It was known in New York, having been presented at Niblo’s Garden, before it was known in Paris or London, and Madame Anna Bishop sang it. The great singers who have appeared in the cast are Anna Bishop, Mario, Lehman, Nilsson, Patti, Brignoli, and others.

Flotow’s best claim to distinction lies in this opera of “Martha.” He was not a special favourite nor a genius, but in “Martha” he turned out a number of fascinating tunes of a humable sort. One of them has been adapted to sacred words, and is much used in churches, but for the most part “Martha” is made of a series of jiggy choruses. Berlioz, who especially hated Flotow, declared that the “introduction of the Irish melody (’Last Rose of Summer’) served to disinfect the rottenness of the Martha music.”

Flotow was born April 27, 1812. Died January 24, 1883.

MARTHA

Characters of the opera with the original cast as presented at the first performance

Lady Harriet Anna Zerr
Nancy Therese Schwarz
Lionel Joseph Erl
Plunkett Carl Formes

Sheriff of Richmond, three servants of Lady Harriet, three maid servants.

Chorus of ladies, servants, farmers, hunters and huntresses, pages, etc.

The story is enacted in England during Queen Anne’s reign.

First sung at Vienna Court Opera, November 25, 1847.

Composer: Friedrich Freiherr von Flotow.
Author: W. Friedrich (F.W. Riese).

ACT I

One morning during fair time in Richmond the Lady Harriet, maid of honour to her Majesty Queen Anne, was sitting in her boudoir at her toilet table. She and all her maids and women friends who were attending at her toilet were bored to death.

“Did any one ever know such a stupid, dismal life as we are leading?” they declared. “In heaven’s name, why doesn’t some one think of something to do that will vary the monotony of this routine existence? We rise in the morning, make a toilet, go to her Majesty, make a toilet, breakfast, read to her Majesty, make a toilet, dine, walk with her Majesty, sup, unmake a toilet and go to bed! Of all the awful existences I really believe ours has become the most so.”

“It is as you say, but we cannot improve matters by groaning about it. Lady Harriet, Sir Tristram has sent you some flowers,” Nancy, Lady Harriet’s favourite, cried, handing them to her ladyship.

“Well, do you call that something new? because I don’t! Why doesn’t the cook send me some flowers or maybe the hostler somebody, something new? Take them out of my sight and Sir Tristram with them, in case he appears.”

“Look at these diamonds: they sparkle like morning showers on the flowers. The sight of them is enough to please any one!”

“It is not enough to please me,” Lady Harriet declared petulantly, determined to be pleased with nothing.

“Who is that? There is some one who wishes an audience with me! I’ll see no one.”

“Ah,” a man’s voice announced from the curtains, “but I have come to tell you of something new, Lady Harriet!”

“You? Sir Tristram? Is there anything new under the sun? If you really have something to suggest that is worth hearing, you may come in.”

“Listen, ladies! and tell me if I haven’t conceived a clever thought. The fair is on at Richmond ”

“Well it is always on, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, ladies. Only once a year this is the time. There is a fair and there are cock-fights ”

“Ah that sounds rather thrilling.”

“And donkeys ”

“Oh, there are always donkeys always!” the ladies cried, looking hopelessly at poor Sir Tristram.

“I mean real donkeys,” the poor man explained patiently.

“So do we mean real donkeys,” they sighed.

“And there are the races and well, if you will come I am certain there are several new attractions. Let me take you, Lady Harriet, and I promise to make you forget your ennui for once. Cock-fights and ”

“Donkeys,” she sighed, rising. “Very well, one might as well die of donkeys and cock-fights as of nothing at all. It is too hot, open the window ”

“I fly.”

“Oh, heavens! now it is too cold shut it ”

“I fly,” the unhappy Sir Tristram replied.

“Give me my fan ”

“I fly.” He flies.

“O lord, I don’t want it ”

“I fl oh!” he sighed and sank into a chair, exhausted.

“What is that?” Harriet asked impatiently, as she heard this gay chorus sung just outside her windows.

“A gay measure: the girls and lads going to the fair,” Nancy replied.

“Servant girls and stable boys bah!”

“Yes shocking! Who would give them a thought?” Sir Tristram rashly remarked.

“Why, I don’t know! after all, they sound very gay indeed. You haven’t very good taste, Sir Tristram, I declare.” And at this the poor old fop should have seen that she would contradict anything that he said.

“Oh, I remember now! Fair day is the day when all the pretty girls dress in their best and go to the fair to seek for places, to get situations. They hire themselves out for a certain length of time! till next year, I think. Meantime they dance in their best dresses and have a very gay day of it.”

“That sounds to me rather attractive,” Lady Harriet remarked thoughtfully.

“A foolish fancy, your ladyship,” the unfortunate Sir Tristram put in.

“Now I am resolved to go! Get me that bodice I wore at the fancy dress ball, Nancy. We shall all go I shall be Martha, Nancy, and old Rob.”

“And and who may be ‘old Rob,’ your ladyship?” Sir Tristram asked, feeling much pained at this frivolity.

“Why, you, to be sure. Come! No mumps! No dumps! We are off!”

“Oh, this is too much.”

“What, Sir Tristram, is that the extent of your love for me?”

“No, no I shall do as you wish but,” the poor old chap sighed heavily.

“To be sure you will so now, Nancy, teach old Rob how the yokels dance, and we’ll be off.”

“This is too much. I can’t dance in that manner.”

“Dance or leave me! Dance or stay at home, sir!” Harriet cried sternly.

“O heaven I’ll dance,” and so he tried, and the teases put him through all the absurd paces they knew, till he fell exhausted into a seat.

“That was almost true to nature,” they laughed. “You will do, so come along. But don’t forget your part. Don’t let us see any of the airs of a nobleman or you shall leave us. We’ll take you, but if you forget your part we shall certainly leave you,” and they dragged him off recklessly.

At the fair, ribbons were flying, bands were playing, lads and lasses were dancing, and farmers were singing:

Fleet of foot, and clad with neatness,
Come and let the master choose;
Sweet of temper, all discreetness,
Who a prize like this would lose?

Done is the bargain if the maid is trusty,
blythe and willing;
Done is the bargain if she accepts the master’s
proffered shilling!

Thus, the farmers who had come to the fair to choose a maid-servant, sang together. The maid-servants were meanwhile singing a song of their own, and everybody was in high feather.

Now to this fair had come two farmers in particular; one being farmer Plunkett, and the other, altogether a handsome fellow, named Lionel, who was the foster-brother of Plunkett. As a matter of fact, he was left in his babyhood on the doorstep of Plunkett’s father, who adopted him and brought him up with his own son. The baby had had nothing by which he could be identified, but there was a ring left with him, and the instruction that it was to be shown to the Queen in case the boy should ever find himself in serious trouble when he grew up. Now both these gay farmers had come to secure maid-servants for the year, and Plunkett came up to inspect the girls as they assembled.

“What a clatter! This becomes a serious matter. How on earth is a man to make a choice with such confusion all about him?”

“Oh well, there is no haste,” Lionel replied leisurely.

“No haste? I tell you, Lionel, we can’t afford to lose any time. There is that farm falling to pieces for need of a competent servant to look after it! I should say there was haste, with a vengeance. We must get a good stout maid to go home with us, or we shall be in a pretty fix. You don’t know much about these things, to be sure. You were always our mother’s favourite, and I the clumsy bear who got most of the cuffs and ran the farm; but take my word for it, if we don’t find good maids we shall soon be ruined, because you are of no more use on a farm than the fifth wheel is on a wagon.”

“Oh, come, come, brother, don’t ”

“That’s all right! I meant no harm. You are my brother and I’ll stick by you forever, but you aren’t practical. Leave this maid-servant business to me, and take my word for it we must hurry the matter up and get home. Some day you’ll be giving that fine ring of yours to Queen Anne, Lionel, and then heaven knows what will happen; but I suspect that whatever it is I shall find myself without a brother.”

“It shall never happen. I shall live and die quite contented beneath the roof where we have grown up together and where I have been happiest.”

“Ohé! Ohé! Ohé! the fair begins! Here comes the sheriff with his bell. Ye maids, come forth now, both young and old! Come forth, come forth! Make way there for the Law!” bawled a crier, clearing the way for the sheriff, who had come to preside over the business of contract-making between the serving maids and the farmers.

I the statute first will read,
Then to business we’ll proceed,

the burly sheriff called at the top of his voice; and all the yokels laughed and crowded about him while he mounted a box and began to read the Law. “‘Tis our royal will and pleasure ’ Hats off! Rustics, look at me! Loyal feelings let us cherish! ’We, Queen Anne, hereby decree to all subjects of the crown, dwelling here in Richmond town, whoso at the fair engages, to perform a servant’s part, for a year her service pledges; from this law let none depart.’”

When the earnest money’s taken, let the bargain stay unshaken!

“Now, then, ye have heard? Stick to the bargains ye make or the law will get ye!”

“And now what can ye do, Molly Pitt?”

I can sow, sir,
I can mow, sir,
I can bake and brew,
Mend things like new,
Can mind a house, and rule it, too,
There’s naught I cannot do.

“She’s worth four guineas. Who will hire her?”

Molly was at once hired by a farmer.

“And now you, Polly Smith?”

I can cook, sir,
By the book, sir,
I can roast and toast,
And ’tis my boast
That nothing in house
That I preside in yet was lost.

“Polly’s worth five guineas. Who wants her?”

Polly was immediately hired by a farmer. After half a dozen buxom girls had told what they could do, and had found places for the year none of them satisfying Plunkett and Lionel, however, who are feeling almost discouraged at the outlook Lady Harriet (who called herself Martha) and Nancy and Sir Tristram came pushing merrily into the crowd. Lady Harriet (or Martha) was certain to want to see everything. Old Sir Tristram was protesting and having a most dreadful time of it.

“This way, Rob,” Martha called, dragging him by the hand and laughing. “What! must I lead you?”

“Come, good, good Rob,” Nancy mocked, entering into the spirit of it and poking the old beau ahead of her. Sir Tristram groaned.

“Oh, I am just like a lamb led to the slaughter.”

“Look, brother,” Plunkett now said, nudging Lionel. “What pretty lasses! Theirs are not like servants’ faces.”

“Let’s inquire,” Lionel replied, a good deal interested and staring at Nancy and Martha.

“Do you see how these disgusting rustics are staring? Let us fly, Lady ”

“Martha,” Lady Harriet reproved him. “Don’t forget I’m Martha.”

“Well, ‘Martha,’ let us go ”

“Not I! I am having the first moment of gaiety I have known in a year. No, ye’ll not go.” Then in bravado and to torment Sir Tristram she set up a cry:

“No, here in the open fair, I refuse you for my master! I won’t go with you!” By that outbreak she had attracted the attention of everybody about. Nancy, too, set up a screech and everybody crowded about them. Sir Tristram dared not say a word to help himself, because if he should really displease Lady Harriet he knew it would be all up with him.

“Nonsense, nonsense,” he said, confused and tormented.

“Well, you can’t force her, Master Rob,” the frolicsome Nancy joined in.

“Force the girl? No, I think not, old fellow,” Plunkett now cried, coming forward with Lionel. The two of them had been watching the quarrel. “No farmer can hire a maid against her will. There are servants to spare here; take your pick and let these alone,” and the tricky Martha and Nancy nearly fainted with trying to suppress their laughter as they witnessed Sir Tristram’s plight.

At that moment all the unhired serving maids rushed to Sir Tristram and crowded about him and began their eternal, “I can bake, sir, I can brew, sir,” etc., and begged him to hire them. Now this was the last straw, and Sir Tristram looked for Martha and Nancy to come to his assistance, but they only shrieked with laughter and urged the girls on. Meantime, Plunkett and Lionel had approached them, and, when Martha noticed that they were about to speak, she became a little frightened.

“Oh, see how they are looking at us!” she gasped to Nancy.

“Well, I can’t say I mind it. I am willing to be seen,” Nancy laughed, still more giddily than Lady Harriet.

“I’d like her to do the cooking,” Plunkett remarked aside to Lionel and pointing to Nancy.

“I think it would be best to hire them both.”

“Well, that might be a good plan. Go up and bargain with them.”

“I do not dare,” Lionel answered, hanging back.

“Pooh! Then I must show you, now then er now then er ahem!” Plunkett, too, found himself embarrassed. In fact, the women did not seem at all like the other serving maids, though their clothing was that of the others.

“Pooh, they’ll never dare ask us!” Nancy told Martha.

“No, come on! Let’s go!” and they turned away. At that Lionel became excited.

“We shall lose them altogether! They are going!”

So then Plunkett got up courage and went to them.

“Damsels, listen! We would hire you. Have you ears? If your floors and platters glisten, ye shall stay with us for years!”

“Yes for for years,” Lionel managed to say.

“What, as your servants?” Lady Harriet gasped. Nancy laughed.

“You are laughing?” Lionel said. He was very anxious to hire them. They were quite the handsomest serving maids he had ever seen.

“No trouble about that,” Plunkett declared. “If she laughs, she will certainly be good-natured about her work.”

“What work?”

“What work?” Lady Harriet and Nancy said in one breath.

“Oh, you are for the farmyard,” Plunkett replied, reassuringly to Lady Harriet, “to keep the house and stable clean, you know. And you,” to Nancy, “are to do the cooking.”

“You don’t mean that this tender creature is to clean stables, brother?” Lionel demanded impulsively.

“Well, she might work in the garden instead if she prefers it. Fifty crowns shall be your wages; and, to be brief, everything found! Beer and cheese for supper on week days; and on Sundays, good roast beef.”

Lady Harriet tried to control her laughter.

“Who could resist so splendid an offer,” she asked of Nancy. Nancy for her part was nearly dying of laughter.

“Not we, not we, Martha.”

“’Tis done, then; we will go.”

“Then by the powers, here’s the shilling to bind the bargain,” Lionel cried, fearful lest after all he and Plunkett should lose them; so he handed over the shilling to Lady Harriet, who, not knowing that this bound her to their service for a year, took it as a part of the fun.

Was there ever so droll a situation?
I began to feel not quite at ease,

the girls then said to each other, and they began to look about for Tristram. He had got away, trying to rid himself of the maids, but now he came back again, still followed by the whole of them. He was the image of despair.

“Here’s a pound to pay the forfeit,” he cried to the maids, giving them money. “And now for heaven’s sake let me go. But but how is this all so friendly,” he gasped in amazement, observing Plunkett and Lionel, Lady Harriet and Nancy.

“Who are you?” demanded Plunkett in a threatening manner.

“Oh, good-bye,” Harriet cried now to the farmers, and she went to Sir Tristram. They had had enough of it now, and decided to go home.

“Good-bye?” cried Plunkett. “Are you demented? Did ye not hire to us? Good-bye?”

“Hush! O lord! That wasn’t our intention. What if it should be heard of at court?”

“Really we must go,” she repeated, starting again to go to Tristram while Plunkett held her back.

“I guess you go no place but home with us! You’re hired, do you understand? You took the shilling. You are hired to serve us for one year. Now no more nonsense. Here, sheriff, tell these girls about this.”

“Why, if you have taken the earnest money, ye are bound to go,” said the sheriff. “So go along and make no more trouble, or I’ll look after ye.” Now the women were in a pickle. If they persisted, of course they would be set free when it was known they belonged to Queen Anne’s court; but they could never live down the disgrace of their prank. Plainly there was nothing left for them but to abide by their arrangement and go with Plunkett and Lionel. Everybody now set up an indignant howl at their behaviour. Tristram could not help them. The angry farmers pushed him aside, and Lady Harriet and Nancy were taken by their arms by the two farmers, and walked back to where the wagon waited.

“Now then! no more nonsense, girls! Ye are hired to us and ye will go,” Plunkett declared, lifting the women into the wagon, while Lionel got up beside them, and then amid the shouts of the crowd and the laughter of the other girls, and the noise of the hurdy-gurdies and the dancing and the calls of the people, Lady Harriet, Nancy, and Lionel were driven off to the farm by Plunkett.

ACT II

“Now, damsels, get to bed,” Plunkett said to Martha and Nancy as he opened the door of the farmhouse upon their arrival. “Get to bed, because ye must get up at dawn.” The two giddy young women looked about them. There were doors at the right and left of the big room which they first entered, and they doubtless led to bedrooms. On the table a lamp was burning and there were a couple of spinning wheels to be seen. As they came in they noticed a bell hung on a pole just outside the door. Not a bit like the palace of Queen Anne! and altogether the lark didn’t appear to have the advantages it first had.

“O heaven! What shall we do?” Martha said to Nancy. “We must get out of this soon, in some way.”

“Well, the main thing is to get to bed now,” Nancy declared, and so the girls turned to say good-night to the two farmers.

“Good-night? Not so. There are your duties to be done first.”

“Our duties?” Martha exclaimed, looking blank.

“Oh, don’t disturb them to-night,” Lionel interrupted, speaking to his brother. Lionel was more and more impressed with both of them, especially with the beauty of Martha. “They are very tired. Don’t disturb them to-night.”

“But you will spoil them to begin with,” Plunkett insisted. “And by the way, what are your names?” he asked.

“Mine is Martha,” Lady Harriet answered dolefully.

“Mine is Julia,” Nancy said impatiently.

“Ho, ho! Too grand to please me! but, Julia, my dame of fashion, pray, put my cloak away,” Plunkett returned, handing it to her.

“Upon my life! What impertinence!” she cried, throwing the cloak upon the floor. “Put away your own cloak.”

“What what?” Plunkett shouted, enraged, and starting up.

“Now, pray be lenient with them, brother. They are quite strange to our ways, perhaps and then they are very tired, you know. Probably overworked by their last master. Leave matters to me. I’ll put them quite at their ease;” whereupon Lionel took his hat and held it out to Martha.

“Martha take it, if you please,” Martha looked at him haughtily, and turned her back on him. Poor Lionel was distracted and abashed.

“Well, really, I don’t I don’t know just what to do myself,” he declared, as his brother snorted with satisfaction at Lionel’s discomfiture.

“Well,” said Lionel, hesitating a moment; then he took his hat and hung it up himself; then Plunkett picked up his cloak and waited upon himself.

“A pretty kettle-of-fish, I should say,” he muttered. “Well, then, to your spinning!”

“To our spinning?” they cried in unison.

“Yes, yes, to your spinning,” Plunkett returned testily. “Do you expect to do nothing but entertain us with conversation? To your spinning, I said.” Then all at once the women burst out laughing.

“Are ye good for nothing?” Plunkett shouted, in a greater rage. “Come, we’ve had enough of this! You go and bring those spindles,” and Plunkett shouted this so loudly that the girls were downright frightened at last.

“Oh, do not scold us,” Martha entreated, shrinking back.

“No, no, brother, let us be gentle.”

“Stuff! Now, girls, you get at that spinning wheel as I tell you.”

The two girls looked at each other. They no longer dared carry matters with a high hand, and yet how could they spin? They knew no more how to spin than did a couple of pussy-cats. After going up to the wheels and looking at them in wonder, they exclaimed:

“I can’t.”

“What?” yelled Plunkett.

“We we don’t know how.”

“Well, upon my soul!” Plunkett cried. “Now you two sit down there as quick as you can.” They sat as if they were shot. Plunkett seemed very much in earnest. “Now turn those wheels!”

“They they will not turn,” they cried, trying and making an awful botch of it.

“Twist the thread,” Lionel instructed with much anxiety.

“O Lord! It won’t twist, they won’t turn. Oh, good gracious! We can’t! we can’t do it at all.”

“Now then, look at this,” Plunkett cried, and he took Nancy from the chair, and seated himself at the spinning wheel; and Lionel unseated Martha gently and took her place, and then the fun began. “Now watch and we will teach you something about this business.”

This way set the wheel a-flying,
Set it whirring, set it flying.
Work the treadle with a will.
While an even thread you’re plying,
Never let your wheel be still.

Come, you will not lose by trying,
I can see you have good will.

And while the girls joined in this gay spinning song, the men buzzed an accompaniment of “Brr, brr, brr,” and the fun waxed fast and furious, the men spinning faster and faster every moment, the girls becoming more and more excited with watching and trying to learn because they now saw that there was nothing for them but to begin business; and more than this, they began almost to like the farmer chaps. After a moment, first one began to laugh, then another, till suddenly they all dragged off into a merry “ha, ha, ha!”

Look! How the busy task he’s plying,
Hercules is at the wheel;
Look, I too can set it flying,
Scold me if I do it ill

Nancy or rather Julia sang, as she took a turn at it. All had turned to fun and frolic, and now even Lady Harriet or Martha could not withstand the temptation to try her hand; so down she sat, and away she went spinning, and singing with the best of them. Suddenly Nancy upset her wheel, Plunkett gaily threatened her, and away she ran, with Plunkett chasing after her. In a minute they had disappeared, and Martha was left alone with Lionel.

“Nancy Julia where are you? here! don’t leave me ” Martha cried.

“Have no fear, gentle girl,” Lionel said, detaining her. “There is no one who will hurt you.” Martha regarded him with some anxiety for a moment, then became reassured.

“No I will not be afraid,” she thought. “This stranger has a kind way with him. True, they are strange in their ways to me but then I am strange in my ways to them.”

“Come! I’ll promise never to be impatient with you nor to scold you if you do not get things right. I am sure you will do your best,” he gently insisted, trying to put her at her ease. “To tell the truth I am desperately in love with you, Martha.”

“Oh, good gracious it is so sudden ” she gasped, looking about for some chance of escape. “Don’t, sir! I assure you I am the worst sort of servant. I have deceived you: as a matter of fact, I know almost nothing of housework or farm work I ”

“Well, at least, you know how to laugh and while the time away. Never mind about the work we shall get on; we’ll let the work go. Only sing for me come, let us be gay.”

“Alas! I do not feel gay ”

“Then sing something that is not gay. Sing what you will but sing,” he urged. He was more in love with her every moment, and not knowing what else to do Martha sang “’Tis the Last Rose of Summer!”

By the time the song was sung, Lionel had quite lost his head.

“Martha, since the moment I first saw thee, I have loved thee madly. Be my wife and I will be your willing slave you may count on me to do the spinning and everything else, if only you will be my wife. I’ll raise thee to my own station.” This was really too much. Martha looked at him in amazement.

“Raise me er ” In spite of herself she had to laugh. Then, with a feeling of tenderness growing in her heart, she felt sorry for him.

“I am sorry to cause you pain, but really you don’t know what you are saying. I ” And at this crisis Nancy and Plunkett came in, Plunkett raising a great to-do because Nancy had been hiding successfully from him, in the kitchen.

“She hasn’t been cooking,” he explained; “simply hiding and I can’t abide idle ways never could now what is wrong with you two?” he asks, observing the restraint felt by Lionel and Martha; but before any one could answer, midnight struck.

“Twelve o’clock!” all exclaimed.

“All good angels watch over thee,” Lionel said impulsively to Martha, “and make thee less scornful.”

For a moment, Plunkett looked thoughtful, then turning to Nancy he said manfully, while everybody seemed at pause since the stroke of midnight.

“Nancy, girl, you are not what I sought for a good servant but some way, I feel as if as if as a wife, I should find thee a good one. I vow, I begin to love thee, for all of thy bothersome little ways.”

“Well, well, good-night, good-night, sirs,” Nancy cried hastily and somewhat disconcerted. To tell the truth, she had begun to think kindly of Plunkett. Plunkett went thoughtfully to the outer door and carefully locked it, then turned and regarded the girls who stood silently and a little sadly, apart.

“Good-night,” he said: and Lionel looking tenderly at Martha murmured, “Good-night,” and the two men went away to their own part of the house, leaving the girls alone.

“Nancy ” Martha whispered softly, after a moment.

“Madame?”

“What next? how escape?”

“How can we go?”

“We must ”

“It is very dark and the way is strange to us,” she said, sadly and fearfully.

“Well, fortune has given us gentle masters, at least,” Martha murmured.

“Yes kind and good ”

“What if the Queen should hear of this?”

“Oh, Lord!” And at that moment came a soft knocking at the window. Both girls started. “What’s that?” More knocking! “Gracious heaven! I am nearly dead with fear,” Martha whispered, looking stealthily about. Nancy pointed to the window.

“Look ” Martha looked.

“Tristram Sir Tristram!” she whispered excitedly. “Open the window. I can’t move, I am so scared. Now, he’ll rave and I can’t resent it. We deserve anything he may say.” Nancy opened the window, and Sir Tristram stepped in softly, upon receiving a caution from the girls.

“Lady Harriet, this is most monstrous.”

“Oh, my soul! Don’t we know it. Don’t wake the farmers up, in heaven’s name! Things are bad enough without making them worse.”

“Yes, let us fly, and make as little row about it as we can,” Nancy implored.

“Then come no words. I have my carriage waiting; follow me quickly and say good-bye to this hovel.”

“Hovel?” Lady Harriet looked about. Suddenly she had a feeling of regret. “Hovel?”

“Nay,” Nancy interrupted. “To this peaceful house good-bye.” Nancy, too, had a regret. They had had a gleeful hour here, among frank and kindly folk, even if they had also been a bit frightened. Anything that had gone wrong with them had been their fault. Tristram placed a bench at the window that the ladies might climb over, and thus they got out, and immediately the sound of their carriage wheels was heard in the yard. Plunkett had waked up meantime and had come out to call the girls. It was time for their day’s work to begin. Farmer folk are out of bed early.

“Ho, girls! time to be up,” he called, entering from his chamber. Then he saw the open window. He paused. “Do I hear carriage wheels and the window open and the bench and the girls gone! Ho there! Everybody!” he rushed out and furiously pulled the bell which hung from the pole outside. His farmhands come running. “Ho those girls hired yesterday have gone. Get after them. Bring them back. I may drop dead the next instant, but I’ll be bound they shan’t treat us in this manner. After them! Back they shall come!” And in the midst of all this confusion in ran Lionel.

“What ”

“Thieves! the girls have run off a nice return for our affections!”

“After them! don’t lose a minute,” Lionel then cried in his turn, and away rushed the farmhands.

“They are ours for one year, by law. Bring them back, or ye shall suffer for it. Be off!” And the men mounted horses and went after the runaways like the wind.

“Nice treatment!”

“Shameful!” Plunkett cried, dropping into a chair, nearly fainting with rage.

ACT III

Plunkett’s men had hunted far and wide for the runaways, but without success. The farmer was still sore over his defeat: he felt himself not only defrauded, but he had grown to love Nancy, and altogether he became very unhappy. One day he was sitting with his fellow farmers around a table in a little forest inn, drinking his glass of beer, when he heard the sound of hunting horns in the distance.

“Hello! a hunting party from the palace must be out,” he remarked, but the music of the horn which once pleased him could no longer arouse him from his moodiness. Nevertheless an extraordinary thing was about to happen. As he went into the inn for a moment, into the grove whirled Nancy! all bespangled in a rich hunting costume and accompanied by her friends who were enjoying the hunt with her. They were singing a rousing hunting chorus, but Martha Lady Harriet was not with them.

“What has happened to Lady Harriet?” some one questioned of Nancy, who was expected to know all her secrets.

“Alas nothing interests her ladyship any more,” she replied! Nancy knew perfectly well that, ever since their escapade, Harriet had thought of nothing but Lionel. For Nancy’s part, she had not thought of much besides Plunkett; but she did not mean to reveal the situation to the court busybodies. Then while the huntresses were roaming about the inn, out came Plunkett! and Nancy, not perceiving at first who he was, went up to him and began to speak.

“Pray, my good man, can you tell Good heaven!” she exclaimed, recognizing him; “Plunkett!”

“Yes, madame, Plunkett; and now Plunkett will see if you get the better of him a second time. We’ll let the sheriff settle this matter, right on the spot.”

“Man, you are mad. Do not breathe my name or each huntress here shall take aim and bring you down. Ho, there!” she cried distractedly to her friends; and she took aim at Plunkett, while all of the others closed round him. It was then Plunkett’s turn to beg for mercy.

“They’re upon me, they’ve undone me!” he cried. “This is serious,” and so indeed it was. “But oh, dear me, there is a remarkable charm in these girls, even if they do threaten a man’s life,” and still looking back over his shoulder, away he ran, pursued by the girls. They had no sooner gone than Lionel came in. He was looking disconsolately at the flowers to which Martha sang the “Last Rose of Summer.” He himself sang a few measures of the song and then looked about him.

“Ah,” he sighed, thinking still of Martha:

And after he had sung thus touchingly of Martha, he threw himself down on the grass, and remained absorbed in his thoughts. But while he was resting there, Lady Harriet and Sir Tristram had also wandered thither. At first they did not see Lionel.

“I have come here away from the others, in order to be alone,” Harriet declared impatiently.

“Alone with me?” Sir Tristram asked indiscreetly.

“Good heaven it doesn’t matter in the least whether you are here or elsewhere. I am quite unconscious of you, wherever you are,” she replied, not very graciously. “Do go away and let me alone!” and, finding that he could not please her, Tristram wandered off, and left her meditating there. After a while she began to sing to herself, softly, and Lionel recognized the voice.

“It is she! Martha!” he cried, starting up. Harriet recognized him, and at once found herself in a dreadful state of mind.

“What shall I do? It is Lionel! that farmer I hired out to!” Well! It was Lionel’s opportunity, and he fell to making the most desperate love to her which she liked very much, but which, being a high-born lady of Queen Anne’s Court, she was bound to resent. She called him base-born and a good many unpleasant things, which did not seem to discourage him in the least, even though it made him feel rather badly; but while he was still protesting his love, Tristram returned, and at once believed Harriet to be in the toils of some dreadful fellow. So he called loudly for everybody in the hunt to come to the rescue which was about the most foolish thing he could do. Then all set upon Lionel. Plunkett, hearing the row, rushed in.

“Stand by me!” Lionel cried.

Nancy appeared. “What does this mean?” she in turn demanded in a high-handed manner.

“Julia, too,” Lionel shouted, recognizing her.

“Bind this madman in fetters,” Tristram ordered.

“Don’t touch him,” Plunkett threatened.

“I shall die,” Nancy declared.

“I engaged these girls in my service,” Lionel shouted, “and now they wish to break the bargain!”

“What?” everybody screamed, staring at Nancy and Harriet. Tristram and the hunters laughed, Tristram trying to shield the girls and turn it into a joke.

“Have compassion on this madman”; Harriet pleaded wincing when she saw Lionel bound and helpless. Lionel then reproached her. She knew perfectly that she deserved it and felt her love for him growing greater. Everybody was in a most dreadful state of mind. Then a page rushed in and cried that Queen Anne was coming toward them, and immediately Lionel had an inspiration.

“Take this ring to her Majesty quick,” he cried, handing his ring to Plunkett.

A litter was then brought for Lady Harriet. She, heartbroken, stepped into it. Lionel was pinioned and was being dragged off. Plunkett held up the ring, to assure him that it should straightway be taken to the Queen.

ACT IV

After the row had quieted down and Nancy and Harriet got time to think matters over, Harriet reached the conclusion that she could not endure Lionel’s misfortune. Hence she had got Nancy to accompany her to the farmer’s house. When they arrived some new maid whom the farmers had got opened the door to them.

“Go, Nancy, and find Plunkett, Lionel’s trusty friend, and tell him I am repentant and cannot endure Lionel’s misfortunes. Tell him his friend is to have hope,” and, obeying her beloved Lady Harriet, Nancy departed to find Plunkett and give the message. In a few minutes she returned with the farmer. He now knew who the ladies were and treated Harriet most respectfully.

“Have you told him?” Lady Harriet asked.

“Yes, but we cannot make Lionel understand anything. He sits vacantly gazing at nothing. He has had so much trouble, that probably his brain is turned.”

“Let us see,” said Harriet; and instantly she began to sing, “’Tis the Last Rose.”

While she sang, Lionel entered slowly. He had heard. Harriet ran to him and would have thrown herself into his arms, but he held her off, fearing she was again deceiving him.

“No, no, I repent, and it was I who took thy ring to the Queen! I have learned that thy father was a nobleman the great Earl of Derby; and the Queen sends the message to thee that she would undo the wrong done thee. Thou art the Earl of Derby and I love thee so take my hand if thou wilt have me.”

Well, this was all very well, but Lionel was not inclined to be played fast and loose with in that fashion. When he was a plain farmer, she had nothing of this sort to say to him, however she may have felt.

“No,” he declared, “I will have none of it! Leave me, all of you,” and he rushed off, whereupon Harriet sank upon a bench, quite overcome. Then suddenly she started up.

“Ah I have a thought!” and out she flew. While she was gone, the farmer and Nancy, who had really begun to care greatly for each other, confessed their love.

“Now that our affairs are no longer in confusion, let us go out and walk and talk it over,” Plunkett urged, and, Nancy being quite willing, they went out. But when they got outside they found to their amazement that Plunkett’s farmhands were rushing hither and thither, putting up tents and booths and flags, and turning the yard into a regular fair-ground, such as the scene appeared when Lionel and Harriet first met. Some of the girls on the farm were assuming the rôle of maids looking for service, and, in short, everything was as nearly like the original scene as they could possibly make it in a short time.

“What, what is all this?” Plunkett asked, amazed. Then he learned it was all done by Harriet’s orders, and he and Nancy began to understand. Then Harriet came in, dressed as Martha. Nancy ran off and returned dressed as Julia, and then all was complete.

“There is Lionel coming toward us,” Nancy cried. “What will happen now?” and there he came, led sadly by Plunkett. He looked about him, dazed, till Plunkett brought up Lady Harriet and presented her as a maid seeking work.

“Heaven! It is Martha ”

“Yes, is this not enough to prove to thee that I am ready to renounce my rank and station for thee? Here I am, seeking thy service,” she pleaded.

“Well, good lassies, what can ye do?” Plunkett asked, entering into the spirit of the thing, and then Nancy gaily sang:

I for spinning finest linen, etc.

Lady Harriet gave Lionel some flowers and then began “’Tis the Last Rose.” Then presently, Lionel, who had been recovering himself slowly while the play had been going on, joined in the last measures, and holding out his arms to Lady Harriet, the lovers were united. Nancy and Plunkett were having the gayest sort of a time, and everybody was singing at the top of his voice that from that time forth there should be nothing but gaiety and joy in the world; and probably that turned out to be true for everybody but old Sir Tristram, who hadn’t had a stroke of good luck since the curtain rose on the first act!