The Robbers. Friedrich von Schiller

forwards, and speaking to himself.)

      CHARLES VON M. Man – man! false, perfidious crocodile-brood! Your eyes are all tears, but your hearts steel! Kisses on your lips, but daggers couched in your bosoms! Even lions and tigers nourish their young. Ravens feast their brood on carrion, and he – he Malice I have learned to bear; and I can smile when my fellest enemy drinks to me in my own heart's blood; but when kindred turn traitors, when a father's love becomes a fury's hate; oh, then, let manly resignation give place to raging fire! the gentle lamb become a tiger! and every nerve strain itself to vengeance and destruction!

      ROLLER. Hark ye, Moor! What think ye of it? A robber's life is pleasanter, after all, than to lie rotting on bread and water in the lowest dungeon of the castle?

      CHARLES VON M. Why was not this spirit implanted in a tiger which gluts its raging jaws with human flesh? Is this a father's tenderness? Is this love for love? Would I were a bear to rouse all the bears of the north against this murderous race! Repentance, and no pardon! Oh, that I could poison the ocean that men might drink death from every spring! Contrition, implicit reliance, and no pardon!

      ROLLER. But listen, Moor, – listen to what I am telling you!

      CHARLES VON M. 'Tis incredible! 'tis a dream – a delusion! Such earnest entreaty, such a vivid picture of misery and tearful penitence – a savage beast would have been melted to compassion! stones would have wept, and yet he – it would be thought a malicious libel upon human nature were I to proclaim it – and yet, yet – oh, that I could sound the trumpet of rebellion through all creation, and lead air, and earth, and sea into battle array against this generation of hyenas!

      GRIMM. Hear me, only hear me! You are deaf with raving.

      CHARLES VON M. Avaunt, avaunt! Is not thy name man? Art thou not born of woman? Out of my sight, thou thing with human visage! I loved him so unutterably! – never son so loved a father; I would have sacrificed a thousand lives for him (foaming and stamping the ground). Ha! where is he that will put a sword into my hand that I may strike this generation of vipers to the quick! Who will teach me how to reach their heart's core, to crush, to annihilate the whole race? Such a man shall be my friend, my angel, my god – him will I worship!

      ROLLER. Such friends behold in us; be but advised!

      SCHW. Come with us into the Bohemian forests! We will form a band of robbers there, and you (MOOR stares at him).

      SCHWEIT. You shall be our captain! you must be our captain!

      SPIEGEL. (throws himself into a chair in a rage). Slaves and cowards!

      CHARLES VON M. Who inspired thee with that thought? Hark, fellow! (grasping ROLLER tightly) that human soul of thine did not produce it; who suggested it to thee? Yes, by the thousand arms of death! that's what we will, and what we must do! the thought's divine. He who conceived it deserves to be canonized. Robbers and murderers! As my soul lives, I am your captain!

      ALL (with tumultuous shouts). Hurrah! long live our captain!

      SPIEGEL. (starting up, aside). Till I give him his coup de grace!

      CHARLES VON M. See, it falls like a film from my eyes! What a fool was I to think of returning to be caged? My soul's athirst for deeds, my spirit pants for freedom. Murderers, robbers! with these words I trample the law underfoot – mankind threw off humanity when I appealed to it. Away, then, with human sympathies and mercy! I no longer have a father, no longer affections; blood and death shall teach me to forget that anything was ever dear to me! Come! come! Oh, I will recreate myself with some most fearful vengeance; – 'tis resolved, I am your captain! and success to him who Shall spread fire and slaughter the widest and most savagely – I pledge myself He shall be right royally rewarded. Stand around me, all of you, and swear to me fealty and obedience unto death! Swear by this trusty right hand.

      ALL (place their hands in his). We swear to thee fealty and obedience unto death!

      CHARLES VON M. And, by this same trusty right Hand, I here swear to you to remain your captain, true and faithful unto death! This arm shall make an instant corpse of him who doubts, or fears, or retreats. And may the same befall me from your hands if I betray my oath! Are you content?

      [SPIEGELBERG runs up and down in a furious rage.]

      ALL (throwing up their hats). We are content!

      CHARLES VON M. Well, then, let us be gone! Fear neither death nor danger, for an unalterable destiny rules over us. Every man has his doom, be it to die on the soft pillow of down, or in the field of blood, or on the scaffold, or the wheel! One or the other of these must be our lot! [Exeunt.]

      SPIEGEL. (looking after them after a pause). Your catalogue has a hole in it. You have omitted poison.

      [Exit.]

      SCENE III. – MOOR'S Castle. – AMELIA'S Chamber

      FRANCIS, AMELIA.

      FRANCIS. Your face is averted from me, Amelia? Am I less worthy than he who is accursed of his father?

      AMELIA. Away! Oh! what a loving, compassionate father, who abandons his son a prey to wolves and monsters! In his own comfortable home he pampers himself with delicious wines and stretches his palsied limbs on down, while his noble son is starving. Shame upon you, inhuman wretches! Shame upon you, ye souls of dragons, ye blots on humanity! – his only son!

      FRANCIS. I thought he had two.

      AMELIA. Yes, he deserves to have such sons as you are. On his deathbed he will in vain stretch out his withered hands for his Charles, and recoil with a shudder when he feels the ice-cold hand of his Francis. Oh, it is sweet, deliciously sweet, to be cursed by such a father! Tell me, Francis, dear brotherly soul – tell me what must one do to be cursed by him?

      FRANCIS. You are raving, dearest; you are to be pitied.

      AMELIA. Oh! indeed. Do you pity your brother? No, monster, you hate him! I hope you hate me too.

      FRANCIS. I love you as dearly as I love myself, Amelia!

      AMELIA. If you love me you will not refuse me one little request.

      FRANCIS. None, none! if you ask no more than my life.

      AMELIA. Oh, if that is the case! then one request, which you will so easily, so readily grant. (Loftily.) Hate me! I should perforce blush crimson if, whilst thinking of Charles, it should for a moment enter my mind that you do not hate me. You promise me this? Now go, and leave me; I so love to be alone!

      FRANCIS. Lovely enthusiast! how greatly I admire your gentle, affectionate heart. Here, here, Charles reigned sole monarch, like a god within his temple; he stood before thee waking, he filled your imaination dreaming; the whole creation seemed to thee to centre in Charles, and to reflect him alone; it gave thee no other echo but of him.

      AMELIA (with emotion). Yes, verily, I own it. Despite of you all, barbarians as you are, I will own it before all the world. I love him!

      FRANCIS. Inhuman, cruel! So to requite a love like this! To forget her —

      AMELIA (starting). What! forget me?

      FRANCIS. Did you not place a ring on his finger? – a diamond ring, the pledge of your love? To be sure how is it possible for youth to resist the fascinations of a wanton? Who can blame him for it, since he had nothing else left to give away? and of course she repaid him with interest by her caresses and embraces.

      AMELIA (with indignation). My ring to a wanton?

      FRANCIS. Fie, fie! it is disgraceful. 'Twould not be much, however, if that were all. A ring, be it ever so costly, is, after all, a thing which one may always buy of a Jew. Perhaps the fashion of it did not please him, perhaps he exchanged it for one more beautiful.

      AMELIA (with violence). But my ring, I say, my ring?

      FRANCIS. Even yours, Amelia. Ha! such a brilliant, and on my finger; and from Amelia! Death itself should not have plucked it hence. It is not the costliness of the diamond, not the cunning of the pattern – it is love which constitutes its value. Is it not so, Amelia? Dearest child, you are weeping. Woe be to him who causes such precious