DANIEL. Your brother? No, on no account; he must not know it!
Certainly not! If he know not already more than he ought to know. Oh,
I can tell you, there are wicked men, wicked brothers, wicked masters;
but I would not for all my master's gold be a wicked servant. His honor
thought you were dead.

CHARLES. Humph! What are you muttering about?

DANIEL (in a half-suppressed voice). And to be sure when a man rises
from the dead thus uninvited--your brother was the sole heir of our late
master!

CHARLES. Old man! what is it you are muttering between your teeth, as
if some dreadful secret were hovering on your tongue which you fear to
utter, and yet ought? Out with it!

DANIEL. But I would rather gnaw my old bones with hunger, and suck my
own blood for thirst, than gain a life of luxury by murder.
                          [Exit hastily.]

CHARLES (starting up, after a terrible pause). Betrayed! Betrayed! It
flashes upon my soul like lightning! A fiendish trick! A murderer and
a robber through fiend-like machinations! Calumniated by him! My
letters falsified, suppressed! his heart full of love! Oh, what a
monstrous fool was I! His fatherly heart full of love! oh, villainy,
villainy! It would have cost me but once kneeling at his feet--a tear
would have done it--oh blind, blind fool that I was! (running up
against the wall). I might have been happy--oh villainy, villainy!

Knavishly, yes, knavishly cheated out of all happiness in this life!
(He runs up and down in a rage.) A murderer, a robber, all through a
knavish trick! He was not even angry! Not a thought of cursing ever
entered his heart. Oh, miscreant! inconceivable, hypocritical,
abominable miscreant!

               Enter KOSINSKY.

KOSINSKY. Well, captain, where are you loitering? What is the matter?
You are for staying here some time longer, I perceive?

CHARLES. Up! Saddle the horses! Before sunset we must be over the
frontier!

KOSINSKY. You are joking.

CHARLES (in a commanding tone). Quick! quick! delay not! leave every
thing behind! and let no eye see you!
                         (Exit KOSINSKY.)

I fly from these walls. The least delay might drive me raving road; and
he my father's son! Brother! brother! thou hast made me the most
miserable wretch on earth; I never injured thee; this was not brotherly.
Reap the fruits of thy crime in quiet, my presence shall no longer
embitter thy enjoyment--but, surely, this was not acting like a brother.
May oblivion shroud thy misdeed forever, and death not bring it back to
light.

               Enter KOSINSKY.

KOSINSKY. The horses are ready saddled, you can mount as soon as you
please.

CHARLES. Why in such haste? Why so urgent? Shall I see her no more?

KOSINSKY. I will take off the bridles again, if you wish it; you bade
me hasten head over heels.

CHARLES. One more farewell! one more! I must drain this poisoned cup
of happiness to the dregs, and then--Stay, Kosinsky! Ten minutes more--
behind, in the castle yard--and we gallop off.




            Scene IV.--In the Garden.

AMELIA. "You are in tears, Amelia!" These were his very words--and
spoken with such expressionsuch a voice!--oh, it summoned up a thousand
dear remembrances!--scenes of past delight, as in my youthful days of
happiness, my golden spring-tide of love. The nightingale sung with the
same sweetness, the flowers breathed the same delicious fragrance, as
when I used to hang enraptured on his neck.*

   *[Here, in the acting edition, is added, 'Assuredly, if the spirits
   of the departed wander among the living, then must this stranger be
   Charles's angel!']

Ha! false, perfidious heart! And dost thou seek thus artfully to veil
thy perjury? No, no! begone forever from my soul, thou sinful image!
I have not broken my oath, thou only one! Avaunt, from my soul, ye
treacherous impious wishes! In the heart where Charles reigns no son
of earth may dwell. But why, my soul, dost thou thus constantly, thus
obstinately turn towards this stranger? Does he not cling to my heart
in the very image of my only one! Is he not his inseparable companion
in my thoughts? "You are in tears, Amelia?" Ha! let me fly from him!--
--fly!--never more shall my eyes behold this stranger!
                   [CHARLES opens the garden gate.]

AMELIA (starting). Hark! hark! did I not hear the gate creak? (She
perceives CHARLES and starts up.) He?--whither?--what? I am rooted to
the spot,--I can not fly! Forsake me not, good Heaven! No! thou shalt
not tear me from my Charles! My soul has no room for two deities, I am
but a mortal maid! (She draws the picture of CHARLES from her bosom.)
Thou, my Charles! be thou my guardian angel against this stranger, this
invader of our loves! At thee will I look, at thee, nor turn away my
eyes--nor cast one sinful look towards him! (She sits silent, her eyes
fixed upon the picture.)

CHARLES. You here, Lady Amelia?--and so sad? and a tear upon that
picture? (AMELIA gives him no answer.) And who is the happy man for
whom these silver drops fall from an angel's eyes? May I be permitted
to look at--(He endeavors to look at the picture.)

AMELIA. No--yes--no!

CHARLES (starting back). Ha--and does he deserve to be so idolized?
Does he deserve it?

AMELIA. Had you but known him!

CHARLES. I should have envied him.

AMELIA. Adored, you mean.

CHARLES. Ha!

AMELIA. Oh, you would so have loved him?---there was so much, so much
in his face--in his eyes--in the tone of his voice,--which was so like
yours--that I love so dearly! (CHARLES casts his eyes down to the
ground.) Here, where you are standing, he has stood a thousand times--
and by his side, one who, by his side, forgot heaven and earth. Here
his eyes feasted on nature's most glorious panorama,--which, as if
conscious of his approving glance, seemed to increase in beauty under
the approbation of her masterpiece. Here he held the audience of the
air captive with his heavenly music. Here, from this bush, he plucked
roses, and plucked those roses for me. Here, here, he lay on my neck;
here he imprinted burning kisses on my lips, and the flowers hung their
heads with pleasure beneath the foot-tread of the lovers.*

   *[In the acting edition the scene changes materially at this point,
   and the most sentimental part of the whole drama is transformed
   into the most voluptuous. The stage direction here is,--(They give
   way to their transports without control, and mingle their kisses.
   MOOR hangs in ecstacy on her lips, while she sinks half delirious
   on the couch.) O Charles! now avenge thyself; my vow is broken.

   MOOR (tearing himself away from her, as if in frenzy). Can this be
   hell that still pursues me! (Gazing on her.) I felt so happy!

   AMELIA (perceiving the ring upon her finger, starts up from the
   couch). What! Art thou still there--on that guilty hand? Witness
   of my perjury. Away with thee! (She pulls the ring from her
   finger and gives it to CHARLES.) Take it--take it, beloved
   seducer! and with it what I hold most sacred--take my all--my
   Charles! (She falls back upon the couch.)

   MOOR (changes color). O thou Most High! was this thy almighty
   will? It is the very ring I gave her in pledge of our mutual
   faith. Hell be the grave of love! She has returned my ring.

   AMELIA (terrified). Heavens! What is the matter? Your eyes roll
   wildly, and your lips are pale as death! Ah! woe is me. And are
   the pleasures of thy crime so soon forgotten?

   MOOR (suppressing his emotion). 'Tis nothing! Nothing! (Raising
   his eyes to heaven.) I am still a man! (He takes of his own ring
   and puts it on AMELIA'S finger.) In return take this! sweet fury of
   my heart! And with it what I hold most sacred--take my all--my
   Amelia!

   AMELIA (starting up). Your Amelia!

   MOOR (mournfully). Oh, she was such a lovely maiden, and faithful
   as an angel. When we parted we exchanged rings, and vowed eternal
   constancy. She heard that I was dead--believed it--yet remained
   constant to the dead. She heard again that I was living--yet
   became faithless to the living. I flew into her arms--was happy
   as--the blest in Paradise. Think what my heart was doomed to feel,
   Amelia! She gave me back my ring--she took her own.

   AMELIA (her eyes fixed on the earth in amazement). 'Tis strange,
   most strange! 'Tis horrible!

   MOOR. Ay, strange and horrible! My child, there is much--ay, much
   for man to learn ere his poor intellect can fathom the decrees of
   Him who smiles at human vows and weeps at human projects. My
   Amelia is an unfortunate maiden!

   AMELIA. Unfortunate! Because she rejected you?

   MOOR. Unfortunate. Because she embraced the man she betrayed.

   AMELIA (with melancholy tenderness). Oh, then, she is indeed
   unfortunate! From my soul I pity her! She shall be my sister.
   But there is another and a better world."]


CHARLES. He is no more?

AMELIA. He sails on troubled seas--Amelia's love sails with him. He
wanders through pathless, sandy deserts--Amelia's love clothes the
burning sand with verdure, and the barren shrubs with flowers. Southern
suits scorch his bare head, northern snows pinch his feet, tempestuous
hail beats down on his temples, but Amelia's love lulls him to sleep in
the midst of the storm. Seas, and mountains, and skies, divide the
lovers--but their souls rise above this prison-house of clay, and meet
in the paradise of love. You appear sad, count!

CHARLES. These words of love rekindle my love.

AMELIA (pale). What? You love another? Alas! what have I said?

CHARLES. She believed me dead, and in my supposed death she remained
faithful to me--she heard again that I was alive, and she sacrificed for
me the crown of a saint. She knows that I am wandering in deserts, and
roaming about in misery, yet her love follows me on wings through
deserts and through misery. Her name, too, like yours, is Amelia.

AMELIA. How I envy your Amelia!

CHARLES. Oh, she is an unhappy maid. Her love is fixed upon one who is
lost--and it can never--never be rewarded.

AMELIA. Say not so! It will be rewarded in heaven. Is it not agreed
that there is a better world, where mourners rejoice, and where lovers
meet again?

CHARLES. Yes, a world where the veil is lifted--where the phantom love
will make terrible discoveries--Eternity is its name. My Amelia is an
unhappy maid.

AMELIA. Unhappy, and loves you?*

   *[In the acting edition the scene closes with a different
   denouement. Amelia here says, "Are all unhappy who live with you,
   and bear the name of Amelia.
   "CHARLES. Yes, all--when they think they embrace an angel, and
   find in their arms--a murderer. Alas, for my Amelia! She is
   indeed unfortunate.
   "AMELIA (with an expression of deep affliction). Oh, I must weep
   for her.
   "CHARLES (grasping her hand, and pointing to the ring). Weep for
   thyself.
   "AMELIA (recognizing the ring). Charles! Charles! O heaven and
   earth!
   (She sinks fainting; the scene closes.)"]


CHARLES. Unhappy, because she loves me! What if I were a murderer?
How, Lady Amelia, if your lover could reckon you up a murder for every
one of your kisses? Woe to my Amelia! She is an unhappy maid.

AMELIA (gayly rising). Ha! What a happy maid am I! My only one is a
reflection of Deity, and Deity is mercy and compassion! He could not
bear to see a fly suffer. His soul is as far from every thought of
blood as the sun is from the moon. (CHARLES suddenly turns away into a
thicket, and looks wildly out into the landscape. AMELIA sings, playing
the guitar.)

     Oh! Hector, wilt thou go forevermore,
     Where fierce Achilles, on the blood-stained shore,
      Heaps countless victims o'er Patroclus' grave?
     Who then thy hapless orphan boy will rear,
     Teach him to praise the gods and hurl the spear,
      When thou art swallowed up in Xanthus' wave?

CHARLES (silently tunes the guitar, and plays).

     Beloved wife!--stern duty calls to arms
     Go, fetch my lance! and cease those vain alarms!

             [He flings the guitar away, and rushes off.]




     SCENE V.--A neighboring forest. Night. An old ruined
          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 eats 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-billed 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 to! 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.