The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 71

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 pa.s.s-keys from his pocket.) For once I thank heaven I've learned that craft!

These keys would mock h.e.l.l'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 G.o.d 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 ma.s.ses 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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 carca.s.s!" 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?