The Works of Frederick Schiller is a Webnovel created by Friedrich Schiller.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
OLD MOOR. Leave off! leave off. I feel very ill.
AMELIA (running towards him, lets fall the book). Heaven help us! What is this?
OLD MOOR. It is death–darkness–is waving–before my eyes–I pray thee–send for the minister–that he may–give me–the Holy Communion.
Where is–my son Francis?
AMELIA. He is fled. G.o.d have mercy upon us!
OLD MOOR. Fled–fled from his father’s deathbed? And is that all–all –of two children full of promise–thou hast given–thou hast–taken away–thy name be–
AMELIA (with a sudden cry). Dead! both dead!
[Exit in despair.]
Enter FRANCIS, dancing with joy.
FRANCIS. Dead, they cry, dead! Now am I master. Through the whole castle it rings, dead! but stay, perchance he only sleeps? To be sure, yes, to be sure! that certainly is a sleep after which no “good-morrow”
is ever said. Sleep and death are but twin-brothers. We will for once change their names! Excellent, welcome sleep! We will call thee death!
(He closes the eyes of OLD MOOR.) Who now will come forward and dare to accuse me at the bar of justice, or tell me to my face, thou art a villain? Away, then, with this troublesome mask of humility and virtue!
Now you shall see Francis as he is, and tremble! My father was overgentle in his demands, turned his domain into a family-circle, sat blandly smiling at the gate, and saluted his peasants as brethren and children. My brows shall lower upon you like thunderclouds; my lordly name shall hover over you like a threatening comet over the mountains; my forehead shall be your weather-gla.s.s! He would caress and fondle the child that lifted its stubborn head against him. But fondling and caressing is not my mode. I will drive the rowels of the spur into their flesh, and give the scourge a trial. Under my rule it shall be brought to pa.s.s that potatoes and small-beer shall be considered a holiday treat; and woe to him who meets my eye with the audacious front of health. Haggard want and crouching fear are my insignia; and in this livery I will clothe ye.
[Exit.]
SCENE III.–THE BOHEMIAN WOODS.
SPIEGELBERG, RAZMAN, A Troop Of ROBBERS.
RAZ. Are you come? Is it really you? Oh, let me squeeze thee into a jelly, my dear heart’s brother! Welcome to the Bohemian forests! Why, you are grown quite stout and jolly! You have brought us recruits in right earnest, a little army of them; you are the very prince of crimps.
SPIEGEL. Eh, brother? Eli? And proper fellows they are! You must confess the blessing of heaven is visibly upon me; I was a poor, hungry wretch, and had nothing but this staff when I went over the Jordan, and now there are eight-and-seventy of us, mostly ruined shopkeepers, rejected masters of arts, and law-clerks from the Swabian provinces.
They are a rare set of fellows, brother, capital fellows, I promise you; they will steal you the very b.u.t.tons off each other’s trousers in perfect security, although in the teeth of a loaded musket,* and they live in clover and enjoy a reputation for forty miles round, which is quite astonishing.
*[The acting edition reads, “Hang your hat up in the sun, and I’ll take you a wager it’s gone the next minute, as clean out of sight as if the devil himself had walked off with it.”]
There is not a newspaper in which you will not find some little feat or other of that cunning fellow, Spiegelberg; I take in the papers for nothing else; they have described me from head to foot; you would think you saw me; they have not forgotten even my coat-b.u.t.tons. But we lead them gloriously by the nose. The other day I went to the printing-office and pretended that I had seen the famous Spiegelberg, dictated to a penny-a-liner who was sitting there the exact image of a quack doctor in the town; the matter gets wind, the fellow is arrested, put to the rack, and in his anguish and stupidity he confesses the devil take me if he does not–confesses that he is Spiegelberg. Fire and fury!
I was on the point of giving myself up to a magistrate rather than have my fair fame marred by such a poltroon; however, within three months he was hanged. I was obliged to stuff a right good pinch of snuff into my nose as some time afterwards I was pa.s.sing the gibbet and saw the pseudo-Spiegelberg parading there in all his glory; and, while Spiegelberg’s representative is dangling by the neck, the real Spiegelberg very quietly slips himself out of the noose, and makes jolly long noses behind the backs of these sagacious wiseacres of the law.
RAZ. (laughing). You are still the same fellow you always were.
SPIEGEL. Ay, sure! body and soul. But I must tell you a bit of fun, my boy, which I had the other day in the nunnery of St. Austin. We fell in with the convent just about sunset; and as I had not fired a single cartridge all day,–you know I hate the _diem perdidi_ as I hate death itself,–I was determined to immortalize the night by some glorious exploit, even though it should cost the devil one of his ears! We kept quite quiet till late in the night. At last all is as still as a mouse –the lights are extinguished. We fancy the nuns must be comfortably tucked up. So I take brother Grimm along with me, and order the others to wait at the gate till they hear my whistle–I secure the watchman, take the keys from him, creep into the maid-servants’ dormitory, take.
away all their clothes, and whisk the bundle out at the window. We go on from cell to cell, take away the clothes of one sister after another, and lastly those of the lady-abbess herself. Then I sound my whistle, and my fellows outside begin to storm and halloo as if doomsday was at hand, and away they rush with the devil’s own uproar into the cells of the sisters! Ha, ha, ha! You should have seen the game–how the poor creatures were groping about in the dark for their petticoats, and how they took on when they found they were gone; and we, in the meantime, at ’em like very devils; and now, terrified and amazed, they wriggled under their bedclothes, or cowered together like cats behind the stoves.
There was such shrieking and lamentation; and then the old beldame of an abbess–you know, brother, there is nothing in the world I hate so much as a spider and an old woman–so you may just fancy that wrinkled old hag standing naked before me, conjuring me by her maiden modesty forsooth! Well, I was determined to make short work of it; either, said I, out with your plate and your convent jewels and all your shining dollars, or–my fellows knew what I meant. The end of it was I brought away more than a thousand dollars’ worth out of the convent, to say nothing of the fun, which will tell its own story in due time.
RAZ. (stamping on the ground). Hang it, that I should be absent on such an occasion.
SPIEGEL. Do you see? Now tell me, is not that life? ‘Tis that which keeps one fresh and hale, and braces the body so that it swells hourly like an abbot’s paunch; I don’t know, but I think I must be endowed with some magnetic property, which attracts all the vagabonds on the face of the earth towards me like steel and iron.
RAZ. A precious magnet, indeed. But I should like to know, I’ll be hanged if I shouldn’t, what witchcraft you use?
SPIEGEL. Witchcraft? No need of witchcraft. All it wants is a head–a certain practical capacity which, of course, is not taken in with every spoonful of barley meal; for you know I have always said that an honest man may be carved out of any willow stump, but to make a rogue you must have brains; besides which it requires a national genius–a certain rascal-climate–so to speak.*
*[In the first (and suppressed) edition was added, “Go to the Grisons, for instance; that is what I call the thief’s Athens.”
This obnoxious pa.s.sage has been carefully expunged from all the subsequent editions. It gave mortal offence to the Grison magistrates, who made a formal complaint of the insult and caused Schiller to be severely rebuked by the Grand Duke. This incident forms one of the epochs in our author’s history.]
RAZ. Brother, I have heard Italy celebrated for its artists.
SPIEGEL. Yes, yes! Give the devil his due. Italy makes a very n.o.ble figure; and if Germany goes on as it has begun, and if the Bible gets fairly kicked out, of which there is every prospect, Germany, too, may in time arrive at something respectable; but I should tell you that climate does not, after all, do such a wonderful deal; genius thrives everywhere; and as for the rest, brother, a crab, you know, will never become a pineapple, not even in Paradise. But to pursue our subject, where did I leave off?
RAZ. You were going to tell me about your stratagems.
SPIEGEL. Ah, yes! my stratagems. Well, when you get into a town, the first thing is to fish out from the beadles, watchmen, and turnkeys, who are their best customers, and for these, accordingly, you must look out; then ensconce yourself snugly in coffee-houses, brothels, and beer-shops, and observe who cry out most against the cheapness of the times, the reduced five per cents., and the increasing nuisance of police regulations; who rail the loudest against government, or decry physiognomical science, and such like? These are the right sort of fellows, brother. Their honesty is as loose as a hollow tooth; you have only to apply your pincers. Or a shorter and even better plan is to drop a full purse in the public highway, conceal yourself somewhere near, and mark who finds it. Presently after you come running up, search, proclaim your loss aloud, and ask him, as it were casually, “Have you perchance picked up a purse, sir?” If he says “Yes,” why then the devil fails you.
But if he denies it, with a “pardon me, sir, I remember, I am sorry, sir,” (he jumps up), then, brother, you’ve done the trick. Extinguish your lantern, cunning Diogenes, you have found your match.
RAZ. You are an accomplished pract.i.tioner.
SPIEGEL. My G.o.d! As if that had ever been doubted. Well, then, when you have got your man into the net, you must take great care to land him cleverly. You see, my son, the way I have managed is thus: as soon as I was on the scent I stuck to my candidate like a leech; I drank brotherhood with him, and, _nota bene_, you must always pay the score.
That costs a pretty penny, it is true, but never mind that. You must go further; introduce him to gaming-houses and brothels; entangle him in broils and rogueries till he becomes bankrupt in health and strength, in purse, conscience, and reputation; for I must tell you, by the way, that you will make nothing of it unless you ruin both body and soul. Believe me, brother, and I have experienced it more than fifty times in my extensive practice, that when the honest man is once ousted from his stronghold, the devil has it all his own way–the transition is then as easy as from a wh.o.r.e to a devotee. But hark! What bang was that?
RAZ. It was thunder; go on.
SPIEGEL. Or, there is a yet shorter and still better way. You strip your man of all he has, even to his very shirt, and then he will come to you of his own accord; you won’t teach me to suck eggs, brother; ask that copper-faced fellow there. My eyes, how neatly I got him into my meshes. I showed him forty ducats, which I promised to give him if he would bring me an impression in wax of his master’s keys. Only think, the stupid brute not only does this, but actually brings me–I’ll be hanged if he did not–the keys themselves; and then thinks to get the money. “Sirrah,” said I, “are you aware that I am going to carry these keys straight to the lieutenant of police, and to bespeak a place for you on the gibbet?” By the powers! you should have seen how the simpleton opened his eyes, and began to shake from head to foot like a dripping poodle. “For heaven’s sake, sir, do but consider. I will– will–” “What will you? Will you at once cut your stick and go to the devil with me?” “Oh, with all my heart, with great pleasure.” Ha! ha!
ha! my fine fellow; toasted cheese is the thing to catch mice with; do have a good laugh at him, Razman; ha! ha! ha!
RAZ. Yes, yes, I must confess. I shall inscribe that lesson in letters of gold upon the tablet of my brain. Satan must know his people right well to have chosen you for his factor.
SPIEGEL. Eh, brother? Eli? And if I help him to half a score of fellows he will, of course, let me off scot-free–publishers, you know, always give one copy in ten gratis to those who collect subscribers for them; why should the devil be more of a Jew? Razman, I smell powder.
RAZ. Zounds! I smelt it long ago. You may depend upon it there has being something going forward hereabouts. Yes, yes! I can tell you, Spiegelberg, you will be welcome to our captain with your recruits; he, too, has got hold of some brave fellows.
SPIEGEL. But look at mine! at mine here, bah!
RAZ. Well, well! they may be tolerably expert in the finger department, but, I tell you, the fame of our captain has tempted even some honorable men to join his staff.
SPIEGEL. So much the worse.
RAZ. Without joking. And they are not ashamed to serve under such a leader. He does not commit murder as we do for the sake of plunder; and as to money, as soon as he had plenty of it at command, he did not seem to care a straw for it; and his third of the booty, which belongs to him of right, he gives away to orphans, or supports promising young men with it at college. But should he happen to get a country squire into his clutches who grinds down his peasants like cattle, or some gold-laced villain, who warps the law to his own purposes, and hoodwinks the eyes of justice with his gold, or any chap of that kidney; then, my boy, he is in his element, and rages like a very devil, as if every fibre in his body were a fury.
SPIEGEL. Humph!
RAZ. The other day we were told at a tavern that a rich count from Ratisbon was about to pa.s.s through, who had gained the day in a suit worth a million of money by the craftiness of his lawyer. The captain was just sitting down to a game of backgammon. “How many of us are there?” said he to me, rising in haste. I saw him bite his nether lip, which he never does except when he is very determined. “Not more than five,” I replied. “That’s enough,” he said; threw his score on the table, left the wine he had ordered untouched, and off we went. The whole time he did not utter a syllable, but walked aloof and alone, only asking us from time to time whether we heard anything, and now and then desiring us to lay our ears to the ground. At last the count came in sight, his carriage heavily laden, the lawyer, seated by his side, an outrider in advance, and two hors.e.m.e.n riding behind. Then you should have seen the man. With a pistol in each hand he ran before us to the carriage,–and the voice with which he thundered, “Halt!” The coachman, who would not halt, was soon toppled from his box; the count fired out of the carriage and missed–the horseman fled. “Your money, rascal!”
cried Moor, with his stentorian voice. The count lay like a bullock under the axe: “And are you the rogue who turns justice into a venal prost.i.tute?” The lawyer shook till his teeth chattered again; and a dagger soon stuck in his body, like a stake in a vineyard. “I have done my part,” cried the captain, turning proudly away; “the plunder is your affair.” And with this he vanished into the forest.
SPIEGEL. Hum! hum! Brother, what I told you just now remains between ourselves; there is no occasion for his knowing it. You understand me?
RAZ. Yes, yes, I understand!