castle in the centre of the scene.
The band of ROBBERS encamped on the ground.
The ROBBERS singing.
To rob, to kill, to wench, to fight,
Our pastime is, and daily sport;
The gibbet claims us morn and night,
So let's be jolly, time is short.
A merry life we lead, and free,
A life of endless fun;
Our couch is 'neath the greenwood tree,
Through wind and storm we gain our fee,
The moon we make our sun.
Old Mercury is our patron true,
And a capital chap for helping us through.
To-day we make the abbot our host,
The farmer rich to-morrow;
And where we shall get our next day's roast,
Gives us nor care nor sorrow.
And, when with Rhenish and rare Moselle
Our throats we have been oiling,
Our courage burns with a fiercer swell,
And we're hand and glove with the Lord of Hell,
Who down in his flames is broiling.
For fathers slain the orphans' cries,
The widowed mothers' moan and wail,
Of brides bereaved the whimpering sighs,
Like music sweet, our ears regale.
Beneath the axe to see them writhe,
Bellow like calves, fall dead like flies;
Such bonny sights, and sounds so blithe,
With rapture fill our ears and eyes.
And when at last our death-knell rings--
The devil take that hour!
Payment in full the hangman brings,
And off the stage we scour.
On the road a glass of good liquor or so,
Then hip! hip! hip! and away we go!
SCHWEITZER. The night is far advanced, and the captain has not yet
returned.
RAZ. And yet he promised to be back before the clock struck eight.
SCHWEITZER. Should any harm have befallen him, comrades, wouldn't we
kindle fires! ay, and murder sucking babes?
SPIEGEL. (takes RAZMANN aside). A word in your ear, Razmann!
SCHWARZ (to GRIMM). Should we not send out scouts?
GRIMM. Let him alone. He no doubt has some feat in hand that will put
us to shame.
SCHWEITZER. Then you are out, by old Harry! He did not part from us
like one that had any masterpiece of roguery in view. Have you
forgotten what he said as he marched us across the heath? "The fellow
that takes so much as a turnip out of a field, if I know it, leaves his
head behind him, as true as my name is Moor." We dare not plunder.
RAZ. (aside to SPIEGELBERG). What are you driving at? Speak plainer.
SPIEGEL. Hush! hush! I know not what sort of a notion you and I have of
liberty, that we should toil under the yoke like bullocks, while we are
making such wonderful fine speeches about independence. I like it not.
SCHWEITZER (to GRIMM). What crotchet has that swaggering booby got in
his numskull, I wonder?
RAZ. (aside to SPIEGELBERG). Is it the captain you mean?--
SPIEGEL. Hush! I tell you; hush! He has got his eavesdroppers all
around us. Captain, did you say? Who made him captain over us? Has he
not, in fact, usurped that title, which by right belongs to me? What?
Is it for this that we stake our lives--that we endure all the splenetic
caprices of fortunes--that we may in the end congratulate ourselves upon
being the serfs of a slave? Serfs! When we might be princes? By
heaven! Razmann, I could never brook it.
SCHWEITZER (overhearing him--to the others). Yes--there's a hero for
you! He is just the man to do mighty execution upon frogs with stones.
The very breath of his nostrils, when he sneezes, would blow you through
the eye of a needle.
SPIEGEL. (to RAZMANN). Yes--and for years I have been intent upon it.
There must be an alteration, Razmann. If you are the man I always took
you for--Razmann! He is missing--he is almost given up--Razmann--
methinks his hour is come. What? does not the color so much as mount to
your cheek when you hear the chimes of liberty ringing in your ears?
Have you not courage enough to take the hint?
RAZ. Ha! Satan! What bait art thou spreading for my soul?
SPIEGEL. Does it take? Good! then follow me! I have marked in what
direction he slunk off. Come along! a brace of pistols seldom fail;
and then--we shall be the first to strangle sucking babes. (He
endeavors to draw him of.)
SCHWEITZER (enraged, draws his sword). Ha! caitiff! I have overheard
you! You remind me, at the right moment, of the Bohemian forest! Were
not you the coward that began to quail when the cry arose, "the enemy is
coming!" I then swore by my soul--(They fight, SPIEGELBERG is killed.)
To the devil with thee, assassin!
ROBBERS (in agitation). Murder! murder!--Schweitzer!--Spiegelberg!--
Part them!
SCHWEITZER (throwing the sword on the body). There let him rot! Be
still, my comrades! Don't let such a trifle disturb you. The brute has
always been inveterate against the captain and has not a single scar on
his whole body. Once more, be still. Ha, the scoundrel! He would stab
a man behind his back--skulk and murder! Is it for this that the hot
sweat has poured down us in streams? that we may sneak out of the world
at last like contemptible wretches? The brute! Is it for this that we
have lived in fire and brimstone? To perish at last like rats?
GRIMM. But what the devil, comrade, were you after? What were you
quarreling about? The captain will be furious.
SCHWEITZER. Be that on my head. And you, wretch (to RAZMANN) you were
his accomplice, you! Get out of my sight! Schufterle was another of
your kidney, but he has met his deserts in Switzerland--has been hanged,
as the captain prophesied. (A shot is heard.)
SCHWARZ (jumping up). Hark! a pistol shot! (Another shot is heard.)
Another! Hallo! the captain!
GRIMM. Patience! If it be he, there will be a third. (The third shot
is heard.)
SCHWARZ. 'Tis he! 'Tis the captain! Absent yourself awhile,
Schweitzer--till we explain to him! (They fire.)
Enter CHARLES VON MOOR and KOSINSKY.
SCHWEITZER (running to meet them). Welcome, captain. I have been
somewhat choleric in your absence. (He conducts him to the corpse.) Be
you judge between him and me. He meant to waylay and assassinate you.
ROBBERS (in consternation). What; the captain?
CHARLES (after fixing his eyes for some time upon the corpse, with a
sudden burst of feeling). Oh, incomprehensible finger of the avenging
Nemesis! Was it not he whose siren song seduced me to be what I am?
Let this sword be consecrated to the dark goddess of retribution! That
was not thy deed, Schweitzer.
SCHWEITZER. By heaven, it was mine, though! and, as the devil lives,
it is not the worst deed I have done in my time. (Turns away moodily.)
CHARLES (absorbed in thought). I comprehend--Great Ruler in heaven--
I comprehend. The leaves fall from the trees, and my autumn is come.
Remove this object from my sight! (The corpse of SPIEGELBERG is carried
out.)
GRIMM. Give us your orders, captain! What shall we do next?
CHARLES. Soon--very soon--all will be accomplished. Hand me my lute;
I have lost myself since I have been there. My lute, I say--I must
nurse up my strength again. Leave me!
ROBBERS. 'Tis midnight, captain.
CHARLES. They were only stage tears after all. Let me bring to memory
the song of the old Roman, that my slumbering genius may wake up again.
Hand me my lute. Midnight, say you?
SCHWARZ. Yes, and past, too! Our eyes are as heavy as lead. For three
days we have not slept a wink.
CHARLES. What? does balmy sleep visit the eyes of murderers? Why doth
it flee mine? I never was a coward, nor a villain. Lay yourselves to
rest. At day-break we march.
ROBBERS. Good night, captain. (They stretch them selves on the ground
and fall asleep.)
Profound silence. CHARLES VON MOOR takes up his
guitar, and plays.
BRUTUS.
Oh, be ye welcome, realms of peace and rest!
Receive the last of all the sons of Rome!
From dread Philippi's field, where all the best
Fell bleeding in her cause, I wearied come.
Cassius, no more! And Rome now prostrate laid!
My brethren all lie weltering in their gore!
No refuge left but Hades' gloomy shade;
No hope remains!--No world for Brutus more!
CAESAR.
Who's he that, with a hero's lofty bearing,
Comes striding o'er yon mountain's rocky bed?
Unless my eyes deceive, that noble daring
Bespeaks the Roman warrior's fearless tread.
Whence, son of Tiber, do thy footsteps bend!
Say, stands the seven-hilled city firmly yet?
No Caesar there, to be the soldiers friend!
Full oft has he that orphaned city wept.
BRUTUS.
Ha! thou of three-and-twenty wounds! Avaunt!
Thou unblest shade, what calls thee back to light?
Down with thee, down, to Pluto's deepest haunt,
And shroud thy form in black, eternal night,
Proud mourner! triumph not to learn our fall!
Phillippi's altars reek with freedom's blood?
The bier of Brutus is Rome's funeral pall;
He Minos seeks. Hence to thy Stygian flood!
CAESAR.
That death-stroke, Brutus, which thy weapon hurled!
Thou, too, Brutus?--that thou shouldst be my foe!
Oh, son! It was thy father! Son! The world
Was thine by heritage! Now proudly go,
Well mayst thou claim to be the chief in glory,
'Twas thy fell sword that pierced thy father's heart!
Now go--and at yon gates relate thy story--
Say Brutus claims to be the chief in glory,
'Twas his fell sword that pierced his father's heart!
Go--Now thou'rt told what staid me on this shore,
Grim ferryman, push off, and swiftly ply thine oar.
BRUTUS.
Stay, father, stay! Within the whole bright round
Of Sol's diurnal course I knew but one
Who to compare with Caesar could be found;
And that one, Caesar, thou didst call thy son!
'Twas only Caesar could destroy a Rome;
Brutus alone that Caesar could withstand--
Where Brutus lives, must Caesar die! Thy home
Be far from mine. I'll seek another land.
[He lays down his guitar, and walks to and
fro in deep meditation.]
Who will give me certainty! All is so dark--a confused labyrinth--no
outlet--no guiding star. Were but all to end with this last gasp of
breath. To end, like an empty puppet-show. But why then this burning
thirst after happiness? Wherefore this ideal of unattained perfection?
This looking to an hereafter for the fulfilment of our hopes? If the
paltry pressure of this paltry thing (putting a pistol to his head)
makes the wise man and the fool--the coward and the brave--the noble and
the villain equal?--the harmony which pervades the inanimate world is so
divinely perfect--why, then, should there be such discord in the
intellectual? No! no! there must be something beyond, for I have not
yet attained to happiness.
Think ye that I will tremble, spirits of my slaughtered victims? No,
I will not tremble. (Trembling violently.) The shrieks of your dying
agonies--your black, convulsive features--your ghastly bleeding wounds--
what are they all but links of one indissoluble chain of destiny, which
hung upon the temperament of my father, the life's blood of my mother,
the humors of my nurses and tutors, and even upon the holiday pastimes
of my childhood! (Shaking with horror.) Why has my Perillus made of me
a brazen bull, whose burning entrails yearn after human flesh? (He
lifts the pistol again to his head.)
Time and Eternity!--linked together by a single instant! Fearful key,
which locks behind me the prisonhouse of life, and opens before me the
habitations of eternal night--tell me--oh, tell me--whither--whither
wilt thou lead me? Strange, unexplored land! Humanity is unnerved at
the fearful thought, the elasticity of our finite nature is paralyzed,
and fancy, that wanton ape of the senses, juggles our credulity with
appalling phantoms. No! no! a man must be firm. Be what thou wilt,
thou undefined futurity, so I remain but true to myself. Be what thou
wilt, so I but take this inward self hence with me. External forms are
but the trappings of the man. My heaven and my hell is within.
What if Thou shouldst doom me to be sole inhabitant of some burnt-out
world which thou hast banished from thy sight, where darkness and
never-ending desolation were all my prospect; then would my creative
brain people the silent waste with its own images, and I should have
eternity for leisure to unravel the complicated picture of universal
wretchedness. Or wilt thou make me pass through ever-repeated births
and ever-changing scenes of misery, stage by stage*--to annihilation?
[This and other passages will remind the reader of Cato's soliloquy
"It must be so, Plato; thou reasonest well." But the whole bears a
strong resemblance to Hamlet's "To be or not to be;" and some
passages in Measure for Measure, Act iii, Sc. 1.]
Can I not burst asunder the life-threads woven for me in another world
as easily as I do these? Thou mayest reduce me into nothing; but Thou
canst not take from me this power. (He loads the pistol, and then
suddenly pauses.) And shall I then rush into death from a coward fear
of the ills of life? Shall I yield to misery the palm of victory over
myself? No! I will endure it! (He flings the pistol away.) Misery
shall blunt its edge against my pride! Be my destiny fulfilled! (It
grows darker and darker.)
HERMANN (coming through the forest). Hark! hark! the owl screeches
horribly--the village clock strikes twelve. Well, well--villainy is
asleep--no listeners in these wilds. (He goes to the castle and
knocks.) Come forth, thou man of sorrow! tenant of the miserable
dungeon! thy meal awaits thee.
CHARLES (stepping gently back, unperceived). What means this?
VOICE (from within the castle). Who knocks? Is it you, Hermann, my
raven?
HERMANN. Yes, 'tis Hermann, your raven. Come to the grating and eat.
(Owls are screeching.) Your night companions make a horrid noise, old
man! Do you relish your repast?
VOICE. Yes--I was very hungry. Thanks to thee, thou merciful sender of
ravens, for this thy bread in the wilderness! And how is my dear child,
Hermann?
HERMANN. Hush!--hark!--A noise like snoring! Don't you hear something?
VOICE. What? Do you hear anything?
HERMANN. 'Tis the whistling of the wind through the crannies of the
tower--a serenading which makes one's teeth chatter, and one's nails
turn blue. Hark! tis there again. I still fancy I hear snoring. You
have company, old man. Ugh! ugh! ugh!
VOICE. Do you see anything?
HERMANN. Farewell! farewell! this is a fearful place. Go down into
your bole,--thy deliverer, thy avenger is above. Oh! accursed son! (Is
about to fly.)
CHARLES (stepping forth with horror). Stand!
HERMANN (screaming). Oh, me!*
*[In the acting edition Hermann, instead of this, says,--
'Tis one of his spies for certain, I have lost all fear (draws his
sword). Villain, defend yourself! You have a man before you.]
MOOR. I'll have an answer (strikes the sword out of his hand).
What boots this childish sword-play? Didst thou not speak of
vengeance? Vengeance belongs especially to me--of all men on
earth. Who dares interfere with my vocation?
HERMANN (starts back in affright). By heaven! That man was not
born of woman. His touch withers like the stroke of death.
VOICE. Alas, Hermann! to whom are you speaking?
MOOR. What! still those sounds? What is going on there? (Runs
towards the tower.) Some horrible mystery, no doubt, lies concealed
in that tower. This sword shall bring it to light.
HERMANN (comes forward trembling). Terrible stranger! art thou
the demon of this fearful desert--or perhaps 'one of the ministers
of that unfathonable retribution who make their circuit in this
lower world, and take account of all the deeds of darkness? Oh!
if thou art, be welcome to this tower of horrors!
MOOR. Well guessed, wanderer of the night! You have divined my
function. Exterminating Angel is my name; but I am flesh and blood
like thee. Is this some miserable wretch, cast out of men, and
buried in this dungeon? I will loosen his chains. Once more,
speak! thou voice of terror Where is the door?
HERMANN. As soon could Satan force the gates of heaven as thou
that door. Retire, thou man of might! The genius of the wicked is
beyond the ordinary powers of man.
MOOR. But not the craft of robbers. (He takes some pass-keys from
his pocket.) For once I thank heaven I've learned that craft!
These keys would mock hell's foresight. (He takes a key, and opens
the gate of the tower. An old man comes from below emaciated like
a skeleton. MOOR springs back with of right.) Horrible spectre!
my father!
CHARLES. Stand! I say.
HERMANN. Woe! woe! woe! now all is discovered!
CHARLES. Speak! Who art thou? What brought thee here? Speak!
HERMANN. Mercy, mercy! gracious sir! Hear but one word before you
kill me.
CHARLES (drawing his sword). What am I to hear?
HERMANN. 'Tis true, he forbade me at the peril of my life--but I could
not help it--I dare not do otherwise--a God in heaven--your own
venerable father there--pity for him overcame me. Kill me, if you will!
CHARLES. There's some mystery here--Out with it! Speak! I must know
all.
VOICE (from the castle). Woe! woe! Is it you, Hermann, that are
speaking? To whom are you speaking, Hermann?
CHARLES. Some one else down there? What is the meaning of all this?
(Runs towards the castle.) It is some prisoner whom mankind have cast
off! I will loosen his chains. Voice! Speak! Where is the door?
HERMANN. Oh, have mercy, sir--seek no further, I entreat--for mercy's
sake desist! (He stops his way.)
CHARLES. Locks, bolts, and bars, away! It must come out. Now, for the
first time, come to my aid, thief-craft! (He opens the grated iron door
with, housebreaking tools. An OLD MAN, reduced to a skeleton, comes up
from below.)
THE OLD MAN. Mercy on a poor wretch! Mercy!
CHARLES (starts back in terror). That is my father's voice!
OLD MOOR. I thank thee, merciful Heaven! The hour of deliverance has
arrived.
CHARLES. Shade of the aged Moor! what has disturbed thee in thy grave?
Has thy soul left this earth charged with some foul crime that bars the
gates of Paradise against thee? Say?--I will have masses read, to send
thy wandering spirit to its home. Hast thou buried in the earth the
gold of widows and orphans, that thou art driven to wander howling
through the midnight hour? I will snatch the hidden treasure from the
clutches of the infernal dragon, though he should vomit a thousand
redhot flames upon me, and gnash his sharp teeth against my sword. Or
comest thou, at my request, to reveal to me the mysteries of eternity?
Speak, thou! speak! I am not the man to blanch with fear!
OLD MOOR. I am not a spirit. Touch me--I live but oh! a life indeed of
misery!
CHARLES. What! hast thou not been buried?
OLD MOOR. I was buried--that is to say, a dead dog lies in the vault of
my ancestors, and I have been pining for three long moons in this dark
and loathsome dungeon, where no sunbeam shines, no warm breeze
penetrates, where no friend is seen, where the hoarse raven croaks and
owls screech their midnight concert.
CHARLES. Heaven and earth! Who has done this?
OLD MOOR. Curse him not! 'Tis my son, Francis, who did this.
CHARLES. Francis? Francis? Oh, eternal chaos!
OLD MOOR. If thou art a man, and hast a human heart--oh! my unknown
deliverer--then listen to a father's miseries which his own sons have
heaped upon him. For three long moons I have moaned my pitiful tale to
these flinty walls--but all my answer was an empty echo, that seemed to
mock my wailings. Therefore, if thou art a man, and hast a human
heart--
CHARLES. That appeal might move even wild beasts to pity.
OLD MOOR. I lay upon a sick bed, and had scarcely begun to recover a
little strength, after a dangerous illness, when a man was brought to
me, who pretended that my first-born had fallen in battle. He brought a
sword stained with his blood, and his last farewell--and said that my
curse had driven him into battle, and death, and despair.
CHARLES (turning away in violent agitation). The light breaks in upon
me!
OLD MOOR. Hear me on! I fainted at the dreadful news. They must have
thought me dead; for, when I recovered my senses, I was already in my
coffin, shrouded like a corpse. I scratched against the lid. It was
opened--'twas in the dead of night--my son Francis stood before me--
"What!" said he, with a tremendous voice, "wilt thou then live forever?"
--and with this he slammed-to the lid of the coffin. The thunder of
these words bereft me of my senses; when I awoke again, I felt that the
coffin was in motion, and being borne on wheels. At last it was opened
--I found myself at the entrance of this dungeon--my son stood before
me, and the man, too, who had brought me the bloody sword from Charles.
I fell at my son's feet, and ten times I embraced his knees, and wept,
and conjured, and supplicated, but the supplications of a father reached
not his flinty heart. "Down with the old carcass!" said he, with a
voice of thunder, "he has lived too long;"--and I was thrust down
without mercy, and my son Francis closed the door upon Me.
CHARLES. Impossible!--impossible! Your memory or senses deceive you.
OLD MOOR. Oh, that it were so! But hear me on, and restrain your rage!
There I lay for twenty hours, and not a soul cared for my misery. No
human footstep treads this solitary wild, for 'tis commonly believed
that the ghosts of my ancestors drag clanking chains through these
ruins, and chant their funeral dirge at the hour of midnight. At last
I heard the door creak again on its hinges; this man opened it, and
brought me bread and water. He told me that I had been condemned to die
of hunger, and that his life was in danger should it be discovered that
he fed me. Thus has my miserable existence been till now sustained--but
the unceasing cold--the foul air of my filthy dungeon--my incurable
grief--have exhausted my strength, and reduced my body to a skeleton. A
thousand times have I implored heaven, with tears, to put an end to my
sufferings--but doubtless the measure of my punishment is not
fulfilled,--or some happiness must be yet in store for me, for which he
deigns thus miraculously to preserve me. But I suffer justly--my
Charles! my Charles!--and before there was even a gray hair on his Head!
CHARLES. Enough! Rise! ye stocks, ye lumps of ice! ye lazy unfeeling
sleepers! Up! will none of you awake? (He fires a pistol over their
heads.)
THE ROBBERS (starting up). Ho! hallo! hallo! what is the matter?
CHARLES. Has not that tale shaken you out of your sleep? 'Tis enough
to break the sleep eternal! See here, see here! The laws of the world
have become mere dice-play; the bonds of nature are burst asunder; the
Demon of Discord has broken loose, and stalks abroad triumphant! the Son
has slain his Father!
THE ROBBERS. What does the captain say?
CHARLES. Slain! did I say? No, that is too mild a term! A son has
a thousand-fold broken his own father on the wheel,--impaled, racked,
flayed him alive!--but all these words are too feeble to express what
would make sin itself blush and cannibals shudder. For ages, no devil
ever conceived a deed so horrible. His own father!--but see, see him!
he has fainted away! His own father--the son--into this dungeon--cold--
naked--hungry--athirst--Oh! see, I pray you, see!--'tis my own father,
in very truth it is.
THE ROBBERS (come running and surround the old man). Your father?
Yours?
SCHWEITZER (approaches him reverently, and falls on his knees before
him). Father of my captain! let me kiss thy feet! My dagger is at thy
command.
CHARLES. Revenge, revenge, revenge! thou horribly injured, profaned
old man! Thus, from this moment, and forever, I rend in twain all ties
of fraternity. (He rends his garment from top to bottom.) Here, in the
face of heaven, I curse him--curse every drop of blood which flows in
his veins! Hear me, O moon and stars! and thou black canopy of night,
that lookest down upon this horror! Hear me, thrice terrible avenger.
Thou who reignest above yon pallid orb, who sittest an avenger and a
judge above the stars, and dartest thy fiery bolts through darkness on
the head of guilt! Behold me on my knees behold me raise this hand
aloft in the gloom of night--and hear my oath--and may nature vomit me
forth as some horrible abortion from out the circle of her works if I
break that oath! Here I swear that I will never more greet the light of
day, till the blood of that foul parricide, spilt upon this stone, reeks
in misty vapor towards heaven. (He rises.)
ROBBERS. 'Tis a deed of hell! After this, who shall call us villains?
No! by all the dragons of darkness we never have done anything half so
horrible.
CHARLES. True! and by all the fearful groans of those whom your daggers
have despatched--of those who on that terrible day were consumed by
fire, or crushed by the falling tower--no thought of murder or rapine
shall be harbored in your breast, till every man among you has dyed his
garments scarlet in this monster's blood. It never, I should think,
entered your dreams, that it would fall to your lot to execute the
great decrees of heaven? The tangled web of our destiny is unravelled!
To-day, to-day, an invisible power has ennobled our craft! Worship Him
who has called you to this high destiny, who has conducted you hither,
and deemed ye worthy to be the terrible angels of his inscrutable
judgments! Uncover your heads! Bow down and kiss the dust, and rise up
sanctified. (They kneel.)
SCHWEITZER. Now, captain, issue your commands! What shall we do?
CHARLES. Rise, Schweitzer! and touch these sacred locks! (Leading him
to his father, and putting a lock of hair in his hand.) Do you remember
still, how you, cleft the skull of that Bohemian trooper, at the moment
his sabre was descending on my head, and I had sunk down on my knees,
breathless and exhausted? 'Twas then I promised thee a reward that
should be right royal. But to this hour I have never been able to
discharge that debt.
SCHWEITZER. You swore that much to me, 'tis true; but let me call you
my debtor forever!
CHARLES. No; now will I repay thee, Schweitzer! No mortal has yet been
honored as thou shalt be. I appoint thee avenger of my father's wrongs!
(SCHWEITZER rises.)
SCHWEITZER. Mighty captain! this day you have, for the first time, made
me truly proud! Say, when, where, how shall I smite him?
CHARLES. The minutes are sacred. You must hasten to the work. Choose
the best of the band, and lead them straight to the count's castle!
Drag him from his bed, though he sleep, or he folded in the arms of
pleasure! Drag him from the table, though he be drunk! Tear him from
the crucifix, though he lie on his knees before it! But mark my words--
I charge thee, deliver him into my hands alive! I will hew that man to
pieces, and feed the hungry vultures with his flesh, who dares but graze
his skin, or injure a single hair of his head! I must have him whole.
Bring him to me whole and alive, and a million shall be thy reward.
I'll plunder kings at the risk of my life, but thou shalt have it, and
go free as air. Thou hast my purpose--see it done!
SCHWEITZER. Enough, captain! here is my hand upon it. You shall see
both of us, or neither. Come, Schweitzer's destroying angels, follow
me! (Exit with a troop.)
CHARLES. The rest of you disperse in the forest--I remain here.
ACT V.
SCENE I. A vista of rooms. Dark night.
Enter DANIEL, with a lantern and a bundle.
DANIEL. Farewell, dear home! How many happy days have I enjoyed within
these walls, while my old master lived. Tears to thy memory, thou whom
the grave has long since devoured! He deserves this tribute from an old
servant. His roof was the asylum of orphans, the refuge of the
destitute, but this son has made it a den of murderers. Farewell, thou
dear floor! How often has old Daniel scrubbed thee! Farewell, dear
stove, old Daniel takes a heavy leave of thee. All things had grown so
familiar to thee,--thou wilt feel it sorely, old Eleazar. But heaven
preserve me through grace from the wiles and assault of the tempter.
Empty I came hither--empty I will depart,--but my soul is saved! (He is
in the act of going out, when he is met by FRANCIS, rushing in, in his
dressing-gown.) Heaven help me! Master! (He puts out his lantern.)
FRANCIS. Betrayed! betrayed! The spirit of the dead are vomited from
their graves. The realm of death, shaken out of its eternal slumber,
roars at me, "Murderer, murderer!" Who moves there?
DANIEL (frightened). Help, holy Virgin! help! Is it you, my gracious
master, whose shrieks echo so terribly through the castle that every one
is aroused out of his sleep?
FRANCIS. Sleep? And who gave thee leave to sleep? Go, get lights!
(Exit DANIEL. Enter another servant.) No one shall sleep at this hour.
Do you hear? All shall be awake--in arms--let the guns be loaded! Did
you not see them rushing through yon vaulted passages?
SERVANT. See whom, my lord?
FRANCIS. Whom? you dolt, slave! And do you, with a cold and vacant
stare, ask me whom? Have they not beset me almost to madness? Whom?
blockhead! whom? Ghosts and demons! How far is the night advanced?
SERVANT. The watch has just called two.
FRANCIS. What? will this eternal night last till doomsday? Did you
hear no tumult near? no shout of victory? no trampling of horses?
Where is Char--the Count, I would say?
SERVANT. I know not, my lord.
FRANCIS. You know not? And are you too one of his gang? I'll tread
your villain's heart out through your ribs for that infernal "I know
not!" Begone, fetch the minister!
SERVANT. My lord!
FRANCIS. What! Do you grumble? Do you demur? (Exit servant hastily.)
Do my very slaves conspire against me? Heaven, earth, and hell--all
conspire against me!
DANIEL (returns with a lighted candle). My lord!
FRANCIS. Who said I trembled? No!--'twas but a dream. The dead still
rest in their graves! Tremble! or pale? No, no! I am calm--quite
tranquil.
DANIEL. You are as pale as death, my lord; your voice is weak and
faltering.
FRANCIS. I am somewhat feverish. When the minister comes be sure you
say I am in a fever. Say that I intend to be bled in the morning.
DANIEL. Shall I give you some drops of the balsam of life on sugar?
FRANCIS. Yes, balsam of life on sugar! The minister will not be here
just yet. My voice is weak and faltering. Give me of the balsam of
life on sugar!
DANIEL. Let me have the keys, I will go down to the closet and get it.
FRANCIS. No! no! no! Stay!--or I will go with you. You see I must not
be left alone! How easily I might, you see--faint--if I should be left
alone. Never mind, never mind! It will pass off--you must not leave
me.
DANIEL. Indeed, Sir, you are ill, very ill.
FRANCIS. Yes, just so, just so, nothing more. And illness, you know,
bewilders the brain, and breeds strange and maddening dreams. What
signify dreams? Dreams come from the stomach and cannot signify
anything. Is it not so, Daniel? I had a very comical dream just now.
(He sinks down fainting.)
DANIEL. Oh, merciful heaven! what is this? George!--Conrad!
Sebastian! Martin! Give but some sign of life! (Shaking him.) Oh, the
Blessed Virgin! Oh, Joseph! Keep but your reason! They will say I
have murdered him! Lord have mercy upon me!
FRANCIS (confused). Avaunt!--avaunt!--why dost thou glare upon me thus,
thou horrible spectre? The time for the resurrection of the dead is not
yet come.
DANIEL. Merciful heavens! he has lost his senses.
FRANCIS (recovering himself gradually). Where am I? You here, Daniel?
What have I said? Heed it not. I have told a lie, whatever I said.
Come, help me up! 'T was only a fit of delirium--because--because--I
have not finished my night's rest.
DANIEL. If John were but here! I'll call for help--I'll send for the
physician.
FRANCIS. Stay! Seat yourself by my side on this sofa! There. You are
a sensible man, a good man. Listen to my dream!
DANIEL. Not now; another time! Let me lead you to bed; you have great
need of rest.
FRANCIS. No, no; I prythee, listen, Daniel, and have a good laugh at
me. You must know I fancied that I held a princely banquet, my heart
was merry, and I lay stretched on the turf in the castle garden; and all
on a sudden--it was at midday--and all on a sudden--but mind you have a
good laugh at me!
DANIEL. All on a sudden.
FRANCIS. All on a sudden a tremendous peal of thunder struck upon my
slumbering ear; I started up staggering and trembling; and lo, it seemed
as if the whole hemisphere had burst forth in one flaming sheet of fire,
and mountains, and cities, and forests melted away like wax in the
furnace; and then rose a howling whirlwind, which swept before it the
earth, and the sea, and heaven; then came a sound, as from brazen
trumpets, "Earth, give up thy dead: sea, give up thy dead!" and the open
plains began to heave, and to cast up skulls, and ribs, and jawbones,
and legs, which drew together into human bodies, and then came sweeping
along in dense, interminable masses--a living deluge. Then I looked up,
and lo! I stood at the foot of the thundering Sinai, and above me was a
multitude, and below me a multitude; and on the summit of the mountain,
on three smoking thrones, sat three men, before whose gaze all creation
trembled.
DANIEL. Why, this is a living picture of the day of judgment.
FRANCIS. Did I not tell you? Is it not ridiculous stuff? And one
stepped forth who, to look upon, was like a starlight night; he had in
his hand a signet ring of iron, which he held up between the east and
the west, and said, "Eternal, holy, just, immutable! There is but one
truth; there is but one virtue! Woe, woe, woe! to the doubting sinner!"
Then stepped forth a second, who had in his hand a flashing mirror,
which he held up between the east and west, and said, "This is the
mirror of truth; hypocrisy and deceit cannot look on it." Then was I
terrified, and so were all, for we saw the forms of snakes, and tigers,
and leopards reflected from that fearful mirror. Then stepped forth a
third, who had in his hand a brazen balance, which he held up between
the east and the west, and said, "Approach, ye sons of Adam! I weigh
your thoughts in the balance of my wrath! and your deeds with the weight
of my fury!"
DANIEL. The Lord have mercy upon me!
FRANCIS. They all stood pale and trembling, and every heart was panting
with fearful expectation. Then it seemed to me as if I heard my name
called the first from out the thunders of the mountain, and the
innermost marrow froze within my bones, and my teeth chattered loudly.
Presently the clang of the balance was heard, the rocks sent forth
thunders, and the hours glided by, one after the other, towards the left
scale, and each threw into it a mortal sin!
DANIEL. Oh, may God forgive you!
FRANCIS. He forgave me not! The left scale grew mountains high, but the
other, filled with the blood of atonement, still outweighed it. At last
came an old man, heavily bowed down with grief, his arm gnawed through
with raging hunger. Every eye turned away in horror from the sight. I
knew the man--he cut off a lock of his silver hair, and cast it into the
scale of my sins, when to! in an instant, it sank down to the abyss, and
the scale of atonement flew up on high. Then heard I a voice, issuing
like thunder from the bowels *[Some editions of the original read Rauch
(smoke), some Bauch, as translated.] of the mountain, "Pardon, pardon to
every sinner of the earth and of the deep! Thou alone art rejected!"
(A profound pause.) Well, why don't you laugh?
DANIEL. Can I laugh while my flesh creeps? Dreams come from above.
FRANCIS. Pshaw! pshaw! Say not so! Call me a fool, an idiot, an
absurd fool! Do, there's a good Daniel, I entreat of you; have a hearty
laugh at me!
DANIEL. Dreams come from God. I will pray for you.
FRANCIS. Thou liest, I tell thee. Go, this instant, run! be quick!
see where the minister tarries all this time; tell him to come quickly,
instantly! But, I tell thee, thou liest!
DANIEL. Heaven have mercy upon you!
[Exit.]
FRANCIS. Vulgar prejudice! mere superstition! It has not yet been
proved that the past is not past and forgotten, or that there is an eye
above this earth to take account of what passes on it. Humph! Humph!
But whence, then, this fearful whisper to my soul? Is there really an
avenging judge above the stars? No, no! Yes, yes! A fearful monitor
within bears witness that there is One above the stars who judgeth!
What! meet the avenger above the stars this very night? No, no! I say.
All is empty, lonely, desolate, beyond the stars. Miserable subterfuge,
beneath which thy cowardice seeks to hide itself. And if there should
be something in it after all? No! no! it cannot be. I insist that it
cannot be! But yet, if there should be! Woe to thee if thy sins should
all have been registered above!--if they should be counted over to thee
this very night! Why creeps this shudder through my frame? To die!
Why does that word frighten me thus? To give an account to the Avenger,
there, above the stars! and if he should be just--the wails of orphans
and widows, of the oppressed, the tormented, ascending to his ears, and
he be just? Why have they been afflicted? And why have I been
permitted to trample upon them?
Enter PASTOR MOSER.
MOSER. Your lordship sent for me! I am surprised! The first time in
my life! Is it to scoff at religion, or does it begin to make you
tremble?
FRANCIS. I may scoff or I may tremble, according as you shall answer
me. Listen to me, Moser, I will prove that you are a fool, or wish to
make fools of others, and you shall answer me. Do you hear? At the
peril of your life you shall answer me.
MOSER. 'Tis a higher Being whom you summon before your tribunal. He
will answer you hereafter.
FRANCIS. I will be answered now, this instant, that I may not commit
the contemptible folly of calling upon the idol of the vulgar under the
pressure of suffering. I have often, in bumpers of Burgundy, tauntingly
pledged you in the toast, "There is no God!" Now I address myself to
you in earnest, and I tell you there is none? You shall oppose me with
all the weapons in your power; but with the breath of my lips I will
blow them away.
MOSER. 'Twere well that you could also blow away the thunder which will
alight upon your proud soul with ten thousand times ten thousand tons'
weight! That omniscient God, whom you--fool and miscreant--are denying
in the midst of his creation, needeth not to justify himself by the
mouth of dust. He is as great in your tyrannies as in the sweetest
smile of triumphant virtue.
FRANCIS. Uncommonly well said, parson. Thus I like you.
MOSER. I stand here as steward of a greater Master, and am addressing
one who, like myself, is a sinner--one whom I care not to please. I
must indeed be able to work miracles, to extort the acknowledgment from
your obdurate wickedness--but if your conviction is so firm, why have
you sent for me in the middle of the night?
FRANCIS. Because time hangs heavy on my hands, and the chess-board has
ceased to have any attraction. I wish to amuse myself in a tilt with
the parson. Your empty terrors will not unman my courage. I am well
aware that those who have come off short in this world look forward to
eternity; but they will be sadly disappointed. I have always read that
our whole body is nothing more than a blood-spring, and that, with its
last drop, mind and thought dissolve into nothing. They share all the
infirmities of the body; why, then, should they not cease with its
dissolution? Why not evaporate in its decomposition? Let a drop of
water stray into your brain, and life makes a sudden pause, which
borders on non-existence, and this pause continued is death. Sensation
is the vibration of a few chords, which, when the instrument is broken,
cease to sound. If I raze my seven castles--if I dash this Venus to
pieces--there is an end of their symmetry and beauty. Behold! thus is
it with your immortal soul!
MOSER. So says the philosophy of your despair. But your own heart,
which knocks against your ribs with terror even while you thus argue,
gives your tongue the lie. These cobwebs of systems are swept away by
the single word--"Thou must die!" I challenge you, and be this the
test: If you maintain your firmness in the hour of death; if your
principles do not then miserably desert you, you shall be admitted to
have the best of the argument. But if, in that dread hour, the least
shudder creeps over you, then woe be to you! you have deceived yourself.
FRANCIS (disturbed). If in the hour of death a shudder creeps over me?
MOSER. I have seen many such wretches before now, who set truth at
defiance up to that point; but at the approach of death the illusion
vanished. I will stand at your bedside when you are dying--I should
much like to see a tyrant die. I will stand by, and look you
steadfastly in the face when the physician takes your cold, clammy hand,
and is scarcely able to detect your expiring pulse; and when he looks
up, and, with a fearful shake of the head, says to you, "All human aid
is in vain!" Beware, at that moment, beware, lest you look like Richard
and Nero!
FRANCIS. No! no!
MOSER. Even that very "No" will then be turned to a howling "Yea!" An
inward tribunal, which you can no longer cheat with sceptical delusions,
will then wake up and pass judgment upon you. But the waking up will be
like that of one buried alive in the bowels of the churchyard; there
will come remorse like that of the suicide who has committed the fatal
act and repents it;--'twill be a flash of lightning suddenly breaking in
upon the midnight darkness of your life! There will be one look, and,
if you can sustain that, I will admit that you have won!
FRANCIS (walking up and down restlessly). Cant! Priestly cant!
MOSER. Then, for the first time, will the sword of eternity pass
through your soul;--and then, for the first time, too late, the thought
of God will wake up a terrible monitor, whose name is Judge. Mark this,
Moor; a thousand lives hang upon your beck; and of those thousand every
nine hundred and ninety-nine have been rendered miserable by you. You
wanted but the Roman empire to be a Nero, the kingdom of Peru to be a
Pizarro. Now do you really think that the Almighty will suffer a worm
like you to play the tyrant in His world and to reverse all his
ordinances? Do you think the nine hundred and ninety-nine were created
only to be destroyed, only to serve as puppets in your diabolical game?
Think it not! He will call you to account for every minute of which you
have robbed them, every joy that you have poisoned, every perfection
that you have intercepted. Then, if you can answer Him--then, Moor,
I will admit that you have won.
FRANCIS. No more, not another word! Am I to be at the mercy of thy
drivelling fancies?
MOSER. Beware! The different destinies of mankind are balanced with
terrible nicety. The scale of life which sinks here will rise there,
and that which rises here will sink there. What was here temporary
affliction will there be eternal triumph; and what here was temporary
triumph will there be eternal despair.
FRANCIS (rushing savagely upon him.) May the thunder of heaven strike
thee dumb, thou lying spirit! I will tear thy venomed tongue out of thy
mouth!
MOSER. Do you so soon feel the weight of truth? Before I have brought
forward one single word of evidence? Let me first proceed to the
proofs--
FRANCIS. Silence! To hell with thee and thy proofs! The soul is
annihilated, I tell thee, and I will not be gainsaid!
MOSER. That is what the spirits of the bottomless pit are hourly
moaning for; but heaven denies the boon. Do you hope to escape from the
Avenger's arm even in the solitary waste of nothingness? If you climb
up into heaven, he is there! if you make your bed in hell, behold he is
there also! If you say to the night, "Hide me!" and to the darkness,
"Cover me!" even the night shall be light about you, and darkness blaze
upon your damned soul like a noonday sun.
FRANCIS. But I do not wish to be immortal--let them be so that like;
I have no desire to hinder them. I will force him to annihilate me;
I will so provoke his fury that he may utterly destroy me. Tell me
which are the greatest sins--which excite him to the most terrible
wrath?
MOSER. I know but two. But men do not commit these, nor do men even
dream of them.
FRANCIS. What are they?
MOSER (very significantly). Parricide is the name of the one;
fratricide of the other. Why do you turn so suddenly pale?
FRANCIS. What, old man? Art thou in league with heaven or with hell?
Who told thee that?
MOSER. Woe to him that hath them both upon his soul! It were better
for that man that he had never been born! But be at peace; you have no
longer either a father or a brother!
FRANCIS. Ha! what! Do you know no greater sin? Think again! Death,
heaven, eternity, damnation, hang upon thy lips. Not one greater?
MOSER. No, not one
FRANCIS (falling back in a chair). Annihilation! annihilation!
MOSER. Rejoice, then, rejoice! Congratulate yourself! With all your
abominations you are yet a saint in comparison with a parricide. The
curse that falls upon you is a love ditty in comparison with the curse
that lies upon him. Retribution--
FRANCIS (starting up). Away with thee! May the graves open and swallow
thee ten thousand fathoms deep, thou bird of ill omen! Who bade thee
come here? Away, I tell thee, or I will run thee through and through!
MOSER. Can mere "priestly cant" excite a philosopher to such a pitch of
frenzy? Why not blow it away with a breath of your lips?
(Exit.)
[FRANCIS throws himself about in his chair in
terrible agitation. Profound stillness.]
Enter a SERVANT, hastily
SERVANT. The Lady Amelia has fled. The count has suddenly disappeared.
Enter DANIEL, in great alarm.
DANIEL. My lord, a troop of furious horsemen are galloping down the
hill, shouting "murder! murder!" The whole village is in alarm.
FRANCIS. Quick! let all the bells be tolled--summon everyone to the
chapel--let all fall on their knees--pray for me. All prisoners shall
be released and forgiven--I will make two and threefold restitution to
the poor--I will--why don't you run? Do call in the father confessor,
that he may give me absolution for my sins. What! are you not gone yet?
(The uproar becomes more audible.)
DANIEL. Heaven have mercy upon me, poor sinner! Can I believe you
in earnest, sir? You, who always made a jest of religion? How many
a Bible and prayer-book have you flung at my head when by chance you
caught me at my devotions?
FRANCIS. No more of this. To die! think of it! to die! It will be too
late! (The voice of SCHWEITZER is heard, loud and furious.) Pray for
me, Daniel! Pray, I entreat you!
DANIEL. I always told you,--"you hold prayer in such contempt; but take
heed! take heed! when the fatal hour comes, when the waters are flowing
in upon your soul, you will be ready to give all the treasures of the
world for one little Christian prayer." Do you see it now? What abuse
you used to heap on me! Now you feel it! Is it not so!
FRANCIS (embracing him violently). Forgive me! my dear precious jewel
of a Daniel, forgive me! I will clothe you from head to foot--do but
pray. I will make quite a bridegroom of you--I will--only do pray--
I entreat you--on my knees, I conjure you. In the devil's name, pray!
why don't you pray? (Tumult in the streets, shouts and noises.)
SCHWEIT. (in the street). Storm the place! Kill all before you!
Force the gates! I see lights! He must be there!
FRANCIS (on his knees). Listen to my prayer, O God in heaven! It is
the first time--it shall never happen again. Hear me, God in heaven!
DANIEL. Mercy on me! What are you saying? What a wicked prayer!
Uproar of the PEOPLE, rushing in.
PEOPLE. Robbers! murderers! Who makes such a dreadful noise at this
midnight hour!
SCHWEIT (still in the street). Beat them back, comrades! 'Tis the
devil, come to fetch your master. Where is Schwarz with his troop?
Surround the castle, Grimm! Scale the walls!
GRIMM. Bring the firebrands. Either we must up or he must down. I will
throw fire into his halls.
FRANCIS (praying). Oh Lord! I have been no common murderer--I have
been guilty of no petty crimes, gracious Lord--
DANIEL. Heaven be merciful to us! His very prayers are turned to sins.
(Stones and firebrands are hurled up from below; the windows fall in
with a crash; the castle takes fire.)
FRANCIS. I cannot pray. Here! and here! (striking his breast and his
forehead) All is so void--so barren! (Rises from his knees.) No, I will
not pray. Heaven shall not have that triumph, nor hell that pastime.
DANIEL. O holy Virgin! Help! save! The whole castle is in flames!
FRANCIS. There, take this sword! Quick! Run it right through my body,
that these fiends may not be in time to make holiday sport of me. (The
fire increases.)
DANIEL. Heaven forbid? Heaven forbid! I would send no one before his
time to heaven, much less to--(He runs away).
FRANCIS (following him with a ghastly stare, after a pause).
To hell, thou wouldst say. Indeed! I scent something of the kind.
(In delirium.) Are these their triumphant yells? Do I hear you
hissing, ye serpents of the abyss? They force their way up--they
besiege the door! Why do I shrink from this biting steel? The door
cracks--it yields--there is no escape! Ha! then do thou have mercy upon
me! (He tears away the golden cord from his hat, and strangles
himself.)*
*[In the acting edition, Francis attempts to throw himself into the
flames, but is prevented by the robbers, and taken alive. He is
then brought before his brother, in chains, for sentence.
SCHWEITZER says, "I have fulfilled my word, and brought him alive."
GRIMM. "We tore him out of the flames and the castle is in ashes."
After confronting Francis with his father, and a reproachful
interview between the brothers, Charles delegates the judgment on
Francis to Schweitzer and Kosinsky, but for himself forgives him in
these words: "Thou hast robbed me of heaven's bliss! Be that sin
blotted out! Thy doom is sealed--perdition is thy lot! But I
forgive thee, brother." Upon this CHARLES embraces and leaves him;
the ROBBERS however, thrust FRANCIS into the dungeon where he had
immured his father, laughing in a savage manner. Beyond this the
fate of Francis is left undetermined. Schweitzer, instead of
killing himself, is made partaker, with Kosinsky, of Moor's
estate.]
Enter SCHWEITZER and his band.
SCHWEITZER. Murderous wretch, where art thou? Did you see how they
fled? Has he so few friends? Where has the beast crawled to?
GRIMM (stumbles over the corpse). Stay! what is this lying in the way?
Lights here.
SCHWARZ. He has been beforehand with us. Put up your swords. There he
lies sprawling like a dead dog.
SCHWEITZER. Dead! What! dead? Dead without me? 'Tis a lie, I say.
Mark how quickly he will spring upon his feet! (Shakes him). Hollo!
up with you? There is a father to be murdered.
GRIMM. Spare your pains. He is as dead as a log.
SCHWEITZER (steps aside from him). Yes, his game is up! He is dead!
dead! Go back and tell my captain he is as dead as a log. He will not
see me again. (Blows his brains out.)
SCENE II.--The scene the same as the last scene of the preceding Act.
OLD MOOR seated on a stone; CHARLES VON MOOR opposite;
ROBBERS scattered through the wood.
CHARLES. He does not come! (Strikes his dagger against a stone till
the sparks fly.)
OLD MOOR. Let pardon be his punishment--redoubled love my vengeance.
CHARLES. No! by my enraged soul that shall not be! I will not permit
it. He shall bear that enormous load of crime with him into eternity!--
what else should I kill him for?
OLD MOOR (bursting into tears). Oh my child!
CHARLES. What! you weep for him? In sight of this dungeon?
OLD MOOR. Mercy! oh mercy! (Wringing his hands violently.) Now--now my
son is brought to judgment!
CHARLES (starting). Which son?
OLD MOOR. Ha! what means that question?
CHARLES. Nothing! nothing!
OLD MOOR. Art thou come to make a mockery of my grief?
CHARLES. Treacherous conscience! Take no heed of my words!
OLD MOOR. Yes, I persecuted a son, and a son persecutes me in return.
It is the finger of God. Oh my Charles! my Charles! If thou dost hover
around me in the realms of peace, forgive me! oh forgive me!
CHARLES (hastily). He forgives you! (Checking himself.) If he is
worthy to be called your son, he must forgive you!
OLD MOOR. Ha! he was too noble a son for me. But I will go to him with
my tears, my sleepless nights, my racking dreams. I will embrace his
knees, and cry--cry aloud--"I have sinned against heaven and before
thee; I am no longer worthy to be called thy father!"
CHARLES (in deep emotion). Was he very dear to you--that other son?
OLD MOOR. Heaven is my witness, how much I loved him. Oh, why did I
suffer myself to be beguiled by the arts of a wicked son? I was an
envied father among the fathers of the world--my children full of
promise, blooming by my side! But--oh that fatal hour!--the demon of
envy entered into the heart of my younger son--I listened to the
serpent--and--lost both my children! (Hides his countenance.)
CHARLES (removes to a distance from him). Lost forever!
OLD MOOR. Oh, deeply do I feel the words of Amelia. The spirit of
vengeance spoke from her lips. "In vain wilt thou stretch forth thy
dying hands after a son, in vain fancy thou art grasping the warm hands
of thy Charles,--he will never more stand by thy bedside."
(CHARLES stretches out his hand to him with averted face.)
Oh, that this were the hand of my Charles! But he is laid far away in
the narrow house--he is sleeping the iron sleep--he hears not the voice
of my lamentation. Woe is me! to die in the arms of a stranger? No son
left--no son left to close my eyes!
CHARLES (in violent emotion). It must be so--the moment has arrived.
Leave me--(to the ROBBERS.) And yet--can I restore his son to him?
Alas! No! I cannot restore him that son! No! I will not think of it.
OLD MOOR. Friend! what is that you were muttering?
CHARLES. Your son--yes, old man--(faltering) your son--is--lost
forever!
OLD MOOR. Forever?
CHARLES (looking up to heaven in bitter anguish). Oh this once--keep my
soul from sinking--sustain me but this once!
OLD MOOR. Forever, did you say.
CHARLES. Ask no more! I said forever!
OLD MOOR. Stranger, stranger! why didst thou drag me forth from the
dungeon to remind me of my sorrows?
CHARLES. And what if I were now to snatch his blessing?--snatch it like
a thief, and steal away with the precious prize? A father's blessing,
they say, is never lost.
OLD MOOR. And is my Francis too lost?
CHARLES (falling on his knees before him). 'Twas I who burst the bars
of your dungeon. I crave thy blessing!
OLD MOOR (sorrowfully). Oh that thou shouldst destroy the son!--thou,
the father's deliverer! Behold! Heaven's mercy is untiring, and we
pitiful worms let the sun go down upon our wrath. (Lays his hand upon
the head of CHARLES.) Be thou happy, even as thou shalt be merciful!
CHARLES (rising much affected). Oh!--where is my manhood? My sinews
are unstrung--the sword drops from my hand.
OLD MOOR. How lovely a thing it is when brethren dwell together in
unity; as the dewdrops of heaven that fall upon the mountains of Zion.
Learn to deserve that happiness, young man, and the angels of heaven
will sun themselves in thy glory. Let thy wisdom be the wisdom of gray
hairs, but let thy heart be the heart of innocent childhood.
CHARLES. Oh, for a foretaste of that happiness! Kiss me, divine old
man!
OLD MOOR (kissing him). Think it thy father's kiss; and I will think I
am kissing my son. Canst thou too weep?
CHARLES. I felt as if it were my father's kiss! Woe unto me, were they
to bring him now!
(The companions of SCHWEITZER enter in a silent and mournful
procession, hanging down their heads and hiding their faces.)
CHARLES. Good heaven! (Retreats horror-struck, and seeks to hide
himself. They pass by him his face is averted. Profound silence. They
halt.)
GRIMM (in a subdued tone). My captain!
[CHARLES does not answer and steps farther back.]
SCHWARZ. Dear captain!
[CHARLES retreats still farther.]
GRIMM. 'Tis not our fault, captain!
CHARLES (without looking at them). Who are ye?
GRIMM. You do not look at us! Your faithful followers.
CHARLES. Woe to ye, if ye are faithful to me!
GRIMM. The last farewell from your servant Schweitzer!--
CHARLES (starting). Then ye have not found him?
SCHWARZ. Found him dead.
CHARLES (leaping up with joy). Thanks, O Sovereign Ruler of all things!
--Embrace me, my children!--Mercy be henceforward our watchword!--Now,
were that too surmounted,--all would be surmounted.
Enter ROBBERS with AMELIA.
ROBBERS. Hurrah! hurrah! A prize, a splendid prize!
AMELIA (with hair dishevelled). The dead, they cry, have arisen at his
voice--My uncle alive--in this wood--Where is he? Charles? Uncle!--Ha?
(She rushes into the arms, of OLD MOOR.)
OLD MOOR. Amelia! my daughter! Amelia! (Holds her tightly grasped in
his arms.)
CHARLES (starting back). Who brings this image before my eyes.
AMELIA (tearing herself away from the old man, rushes upon CHARLES, and
embraces him in an ecstasy of delight). I have him, O ye stars! I have
him!
CHARLES (tearing himself away, to the ROBBERS). Let us be gone,
comrades! The arch fiend has betrayed me!
AMELIA. My bridegroom, my bridegroom! thou art raving! Ha! 'Tis with
delight! Why, then, am I so cold, so unfeeling, in the midst of this
tumult of happiness?
OLD MOOR (rousing himself). Bridegroom? Daughter! my daughter! Thy
bridegroom?*
*[Instead of this the stage edition has, "Come my children! Thy
hand, Charles--and thine, Amelia. Oh! I never looked for such
happiness on this side the grave. Here let me unite you forever."]
AMELIA. His forever! He forever, ever, mine! Oh! ye heavenly powers!
support me in this ecstasy of bliss, lest I sink beneath its weight!
CHARLES. Tear her from my neck! Kill her! Kill him! Kill me--
yourselves--everybody! Let the whole world perish! (About to rush of.)
AMELIA. Whither? what? Love! eternity! happiness! never-ending joys!
and thou wouldst fly?
CHARLES. Away, away! most unfortunate of brides! See with thine own
eyes; ask, and hear it with thine own ears! Most miserable of fathers!
Let me escape hence forever!
AMELIA. Support me! for heaven's sake support me! It is growing dark
before my eyes! He flies!
CHARLES. Too late! In vain! Your curse, father! Ask me no more!
I am--I have--your curse--your supposed curse! Who enticed me hither?
(Rushing upon the ROBBERS with drawn sword.) Which of you enticed me
hither, ye demons of the abyss? Perish, then, Amelia! Die, father!
Die, for the third time, through me! These, thy deliverers, are Robbers
and Murderers! Thy Charles is their Captain! (OLD MOOR expires.)
[AMELIA stands silent and transfixed like a statue.
The whole band are mute. A fearful pause.]
CHARLES (rushing against an oak). The souls of those I have strangled
in the intoxication of love--of those whom I crushed to atoms in the
sacredness of sleep--of those whom--Ha! ha! ha! do you hear the
powder-magazine bursting over the heads of women in travail? Do you see
the flames creeping round the cradles of sucklings? That is our nuptial
torch; those shrieks our wedding music! Oh! he forgetteth none of these
things!--he knoweth how to connect the--links in the chain of life.
Therefore do love's delights elude my grasp; therefore is love given me
for a torment! This is retribution!
AMELIA. 'Tis all true! Thou Ruler in heaven! 'Tis all true! What
have I done, poor innocent lamb? I have loved this man!
CHARLES. This is more than a man can endure. Have I not heard death
hissing at me from more thousands of barrels, and never yet moved a
hair's breadth out of its way. And shall I now be taught to tremble
like a woman? tremble before a woman! No! a woman shall not conquer my
manly courage! Blood! blood! 'tis but a fit of womanish feeling. I
must glut myself with blood; and this will pass away. (He is about to
fly.)
AMELIA (sinking into his arms). Murderer! devil! I cannot--angel--
leave thee!
CHARLES (thrusting her from him). Away! insidious serpent! Thou
wouldst make a mockery of my frenzy; but I will bid defiance to my
tyrant destiny. What! art thou weeping? O ye relentless, malicious
stars! She pretends to weep, as if any soul could weep for me!
(AMELIA falls on his neck.) Ha! what means this? She shuns me not--she
spurns me not. Amelia! hast thou then forgotten? Dost thou remember
whom thou art embracing, Amelia?
AMELIA. My only one, mine, mine forever!
CHARLES (recovering himself in an ecstasy of joy). She forgives me, she
loves me! Then am I pure as the ether of heaven, for she loves me!
With tears I thank thee, all-merciful Father! (He falls on his knees,
and bursts into a violent fit of weeping.) The peace of my soul is
restored; my sufferings are at an end. Hell is no more! Behold! oh
behold! the child of light weeps on the neck of a repentant demon!
(Rising and turning to the ROBBERS). Why are ye not weeping also?
Weep, weep, ye are all so happy. O Amelia! Amelia! Amelia! (He hangs
on her neck, they remain locked in a silent embrace.)
A ROBBER (stepping forward enraged). Hold, traitor! This instant come
from her arms! or I will speak a word that shall make thy ears tingle,
and thy teeth chatter with horror! (He holds his sword between them.)
AN AGED ROBBER. Remember the Bohemian forests! Dost thou hear? dost
thou tremble? Remember the Bohemian forests, I tell thee! Faithless
man! where are thy oaths? Are wounds so soon forgotten? Who staked
fortune, honor, life itself for thee? Who stood by thee like walls, and
like shields caught the blows which were aimed at thy life? Didst not
thou then lift up thy hand and swear an iron oath never to forsake us,
even as we forsook not thee? Base, perfidious wretch! and wouldst thou
now desert us at the whining of a harlot?
A THIRD ROBBER. Shame on thy perjury! The spirit of the immolated
Roller, whom thou didst summon from the realms of death to attest thy
oath, will blush at thy cowardice, and rise from his grave full armed to
chastise thee.
THE ROBBERS (all in disorder, tearing open their garments). See here!
and here! Dost thou know these scars? Thou art ours! With our heart's
blood we have bought thee, and thou art ours bodily, even though the
Archangel Michael should seek to wrest thee out of the grasp of the
fiery Moloch! Now! March with us! Sacrifice for sacrifice, Amelia for
the band!
CHARLES (releasing her hand). It is past! I would arise and return to
my father; but heaven has said, "It shall not be!" (Coldly.) Blind fool
that I was! why should I wish it? Is it possible for a great sinner to
return? A great sinner never can return. That ought I long since to
have known. Be still! I pray thee be still! 'Tis all as it should be.
When He sought me I would not; now that I seek him, He will not. What
can be more just? Do not roll about thine eyes so wildly. He--has no
need of me. Has He not creatures in abundance? One he can easily
spare, and that one am I. Come along, comrades!
AMELIA (pulling him back). Stay, I beseech you! One blow! one deadly
blow! Again forsaken! Draw thy sword, and have mercy upon me!
CHARLES. Mercy has taken refuge among bears. I will not kill thee!
AMELIA (embracing his knees). Oh, for heaven's sake! by all that is
merciful! I ask no longer for love. I know that our stars fly from
each other in opposition. Death is all I ask. Forsaken, forsaken!
Take that word in all its dreadful import! Forsaken! I cannot survive
it! Thou knowest well that no woman can survive that. All I ask is
death. See, my hand trembles! I have not courage to strike the blow.
I shrink from the gleaming blade! To thee it is so easy, so very easy;
thou art a master in murder--draw thy sword, and make me happy!
CHARLES. Wouldst thou alone be happy? Away with thee! I will kill no
woman!
AMELIA. Ha! destroyer! thou canst only kill the happy; they who are
weary of existence thou sparest! (She glides towards the robbers.) Then
do ye have mercy on me, disciples of murder! There lurks a bloodthirsty
pity in your looks that is consoling to the wretched. Your master is a
boaster and a coward.
CHARLES. Woman, what dost thou say? (The ROBBERS turn away.)
AMELIA. No friend? No; not even among these a friend? (She rises.)
Well, then, let Dido teach me how to die! (She is going; a ROBBER takes
aim at her.)
CHARLES. Hold! dare it! Moor's Amelia shall die by no other hand than
Moor's. (He strikes her dead.)
THE ROBBERS. Captain! captain! what hast thou done? Art thou raving?
CHARLES (with his eyes fixed on the body). One more pang and all will
be over. She is immolated! Now, look on! have you any farther demand?
Ye staked a life for me, a life which has ceased to be your own--a life
full of infamy and shame! I have sacrificed an angel for you. Now!
look upon her! Are you content?
GRIMM. You have repaid your debt with usury. You have done all that man
could do for his honor, and more. Now let's away.
CHARLES. What say you? Is not the life of a saint for the life of a
felon more than an equal exchange? Oh! I say unto you if every one of
you were to--mount the scaffold, and to have his flesh torn from his
bones piecemeal with red-hot pincers, through eleven long summer days of
torture, yet would it not counterbalance these tears! (With a bitter
laugh.) The scars! the Bohemian forests! Yes, yes! they must be
repaid, of course!
SCHWARZ. Compose yourself, captain! Come along with us! this is no
sight for you. Lead us elsewhere!
CHARLES. Stay! one word more before we proceed elsewhere. Mark me, ye
malicious executioners of my barbarous nod! from this moment I cease to
be your captain.*
*[The acting edition reads,--"Banditti! we are quits. This
bleeding corpse cancels my bond to you forever. From your own I
set you free." ROBBERS. "We are again your slaves till death!"
CHARLES. "No, no, no! We have done with each other. My genius
whispers me, 'Go no further, Moor. Here is the goal of humanity--
and thine!' Take back this bloody plume (throws it at their feet).
Let him who seeks to be your captain take it up."]
With shame and horror I here lay down the bloody staff, under which you
thought yourselves licensed to perpetrate your crimes and to defile the
fair light of heaven with deeds of darkness. Depart to the right and to
the left. We shall never more have aught in common.
THE ROBBERS. Ha! coward! where are thy lofty schemes? were they but
soap-bubbles, which disperse at the breath of a woman?*
*[In lieu of this soliloquy and what follows, to the end, the
acting edition has:--
R. MOOR. Dare not to scrutinize the acts of Moor. That is my last
command. Now, draw near--form a circle around me, and receive the
last words of your dying captain. (He surveys them attentively for
some time.) You have been devotedly faithful to me, faithful
beyond example. Had virtue bound you together as firmly as vice,
you would have been heroes, and your names recorded by mankind with
admiration. Go and offer your services to the state. Dedicate
your talents to the cause of a monarch who is waging war in
vindication of the rights of man. With this blessing I disband
you. Schweitzer and Kosinsky, do you stay. (The others disperse
slowly, with signs of emotion.)]
SCENE VIII.
R. MOOR, SCRWETTZER, and KOSINSKY.
R. MOOR. Give me thy right hand, Kosinsky--Schweitzer thy left.
(He takes their hands, and stands between, them; to KOSINSKY,)
Young man, thou art still pure-amongst the guilty thou alone art
guiltless! (To SCHWEITZER.) Deeply have I imbrued thy hand in
blood. 'Tis I who have done this. With this cordial grasp I take
back mine own. Schweitzer! thou art purified! (He raises their
hands fervently to heaven.) Father in heaven! here I restore them
to thee. They will be more devoted to thy service than those who
never fell. Of that I feel assured. (SCHWEITZER and KOSINSKY fall
on his neck with fervor.) Not now--not now, dear comrades. Spare
my feelings in this trying hour. An earldom has this day fallen to
my lot--a rich domain on which no malediction rests. Share it
between you, my children; become good citizens; and if for ten
human beings that I have destroyed you make but one happy, my soul
may yet be saved. Go--no farewell! In another world we may meet
again--or perhaps no more. Away! away! ere my fortitude desert me.
[Exeunt both, with downcast countenances.]
SCENE IX.
And I, too, am a good citizen. Do I not fulfil the extremity of
the law? Do I not honor the law? Do I not uphold and defend it?
I remember speaking to a poor officer on my way hither, who was
toiling as a day-laborer, and has eleven living children. A
thousand ducats have been offered to whoever shall deliver up the
great robber alive. That man shall be served. [Exit.]
CHARLES. Oh! fool that I was, to fancy that I could amend the world by
misdeeds and maintain law by lawlessness! I called it vengeance and
equity. I presumed, O Providence! upon whetting out the notches of thy
sword and repairing thy partialities. But, oh, vain trifling! here I
stand on the brink of a fearful life, and learn, with wailing and
gnashing of teeth, that two men like myself could ruin the whole edifice
of the moral world. Pardon--pardon the boy who thought to forestall
Thee; to Thee alone belongeth vengeance; Thou needest not the hand of
man! But it is not in my power to recall the past; that which is ruined
remains ruined; what I have thrown down will never more rise up again.
Yet one thing is left me whereby I may atone to the offended majesty of
the law and restore the order which I have violated. A victim is
required--a victim to declare before all mankind how inviolable that
majesty is--that victim shall be myself. I will be the death-offering!
ROBBERS. Take his sword from him--he will kill himself.
CHARLES. Fools that ye are! doomed to eternal blindness! Think ye
that one mortal sin will expiate other mortal sins? Do you suppose that
the harmony of the world would be promoted by such an impious discord?
(Throwing his arms at their feet.) He shall have me alive. I go to
deliver myself into the hands of justice.
ROBBERS. Put him in chains! he has lost his senses!
CHARLES. Not that I have any doubt but that justice would find me
speedily enough if the powers above so ordained it. But she might
surprise me in sleep, or overtake me in flight, or seize me with
violence and the sword, and then I should have lost the only merit left
me, that of making my death a free-will atonement. Why should I, like a
thief, any longer conceal a life, which in the counsels of the heavenly
ministry has long been forfeited?
ROBBERS. Let him go. He is infected with the great-man-mania; he means
to offer up his life for empty admiration.
CHARLES. I might, 'tis true, be admired for it. (After a moment's
reflection.) I remember, on my way hither, talking to a poor creature,
a day-laborer, with eleven living children. A reward has been offered
of a thousand louis-d'ors to any one who shall deliver up the great
robber alive. That man shall be served.
[Exit.]