The Works of Frederick Schiller - LightNovelsOnl.com
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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 G.o.d. 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 n.o.ble 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 s.n.a.t.c.h his blessing?--s.n.a.t.c.h 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 pa.s.s 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.]
