The Robbers. Friedrich von Schiller

and water deluged, shall therefore pearls, fire, and water be condemned. In consequence of the remarkable catastrophe which ends my play, I may justly claim for it a place among books of morality, for crime meets at last with the punishment it deserves; the lost one enters again within the pale of the law, and virtue is triumphant. Whoever will but be courteous enough towards me to read my work through with a desire to understand it, from him I may expect – not that he will admire the poet, but that he will esteem the honest man.

SCHILLER.

      EASTER FAIR, 1781.

      ADVERTISEMENT TO THE ROBBERS

      AS COMMUNICATED BY SCHILLER TO DALBERG IN 1781, AND SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN USED AS A PROLOGUE.

      – This has never before been printed with any of the editions. —

      The picture of a great, misguided soul, endowed with every gift of excellence; yet lost in spite of all its gifts! Unbridled passions and bad companionship corrupt his heart, urge him on from crime to crime, until at last he stands at the head of a band of murderers, heaps horror upon horror, and plunges from precipice to precipice into the lowest depths of despair. Great and majestic in misfortune, by misfortune reclaimed, and led back to the paths of virtue. Such a man shall you pity and hate, abhor yet love, in the Robber Moor. You will likewise see a juggling, fiendish knave unmasked and blown to atoms in his own mines; a fond, weak, and over-indulgent father; the sorrows of too enthusiastic love, and the tortures of ungoverned passion. Here, too, you will witness, not without a shudder, the interior economy of vice; and from the stage be taught how all the tinsel of fortune fails to smother the inward worm; and how terror, anguish, remorse, and despair tread close on the footsteps of guilt. Let the spectator weep to-day at our exhibition, and tremble, and learn to bend his passions to the laws of religion and reason; let the youth behold with alarm the consequences of unbridled excess; nor let the man depart without imbibing the lesson that the invisible hand of Providence makes even villains the instruments of its designs and judgments, and can marvellously unravel the most intricate perplexities of fate.

      PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

      The eight hundred copies of the first edition of my ROBBERS were exhausted before all the admirers of the piece were supplied. A second was therefore undertaken, which has been improved by greater care in printing, and by the omission of those equivocal sentences which were offensive to the more fastidious part of the public. Such an alteration, however, in the construction of the play as should satisfy all the wishes of my friends and critics has not been my object.

      In this second edition the several songs have been arranged for the pianoforte, which will enhance its value to the musical part of the public. I am indebted for this to an able composer,* who has performed his task in so masterly a manner that the hearer is not unlikely to forget the poet in the melody of the musician.

DR. SCHILLER.

      STUTTGART, Jan. 5, 1782.

      * Alluding to his friend Zumsteeg. – ED.

      THE ROBBERS.

      A TRAGEDY

      "Quae medicamenta non sanant, ferrum sanat; quae ferrum non sanat, ignis sanat."

– HIPPOCRATES.

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

      MAXIMILIAN, COUNT VON MOOR.

      CHARLES,|

      FRANCIS,| his Sons.

      AMELIA VON EDELREICH, his Niece.

      SPIEGELBERG,|

      SCHWEITZER, |

      GRIMM, |

      RAZMANN, | Libertines, afterwards Banditti

      SCHUFTERLE, |

      ROLLER, |

      KOSINSKY, |

      SCHWARTZ, |

      HERMANN, the natural son of a Nobleman.

      DANIEL, an old Servant of Count von Moor.

      PASTOR MOSER.

      FATHER DOMINIC, a Monk.

      BAND OF ROBBERS, SERVANTS, ETC.

      The scene is laid in Germany. Period of action about two years.

      ACT I

      SCENE I. – Franconia

      Apartment in the Castle of COUNT MOOR.

      FRANCIS, OLD MOOR.

      FRANCIS. But are you really well, father? You look so pale.

      OLD MOOR. Quite well, my son – what have you to tell me?

      FRANCIS. The post is arrived – a letter from our correspondent at Leipsic.

      OLD M. (eagerly). Any tidings of my son Charles?

      FRANCIS. Hem! Hem! – Why, yes. But I fear – I know not – whether I dare – your health. – Are you really quite well, father?

      OLD M. As a fish in water.* Does he write of my son? What means this anxiety about my health? You have asked me that question twice.

      [*This is equivalent to our English saying "As sound as a roach."]

      FRANCIS. If you are unwell – or are the least apprehensive of being so – permit me to defer – I will speak to you at a fitter season. – (Half aside.) These are no tidings for a feeble frame.

      OLD M. Gracious Heavens? what am I doomed to hear?

      FRANCIS. First let me retire and shed a tear of compassion for my lost brother. Would that my lips might be forever sealed – for he is your son! Would that I could throw an eternal veil over his shame – for he is my brother! But to obey you is my first, though painful, duty – forgive me, therefore.

      OLD M. Oh, Charles! Charles! Didst thou but know what thorns thou plantest in thy father's bosom! That one gladdening report of thee would add ten years to my life! yes, bring back my youth! whilst now, alas, each fresh intelligence but hurries me a step nearer to the grave!

      FRANCIS. Is it so, old man, then farewell! for even this very day we might all have to tear our hair over your coffin.*

      [* This idiom is very common in Germany, and is used to express affliction.]

      OLD M. Stay! There remains but one short step more – let him have his will! (He sits down.) The sins of the father shall be visited unto the third and fourth generation – let him fulfil the decree.

      FRANCIS (takes the letter out of his pocket). You know our correspondent! See! I would give a finger of my right hand might I pronounce him a liar – a base and slanderous liar! Compose yourself! Forgive me if I do not let you read the letter yourself. You cannot, must not, yet know all.

      OLD M. All, all, my son. You will but spare me crutches.*

      [* Du ersparst mir die Krucke; meaning that the contents of the letter can but shorten his declining years, and so spare him the necessity of crutches.]

      FRANCIS (reads). "Leipsic, May 1. Were I not bound by an inviolable promise to conceal nothing from you, not even the smallest particular, that I am able to collect, respecting your brother's career, never, my dearest friend, should my guiltless pen become an instrument of torture to you. I can gather from a hundred of your letters how tidings such as these must pierce your fraternal heart. It seems to me as though I saw thee, for the sake of this worthless, this detestable" – (OLD M. covers his face). Oh! my father, I am only reading you the mildest passages – "this detestable man, shedding a thousand tears." Alas! mine flowed – ay, gushed in torrents over these pitying cheeks. "I already picture to myself your aged pious father, pale as death." Good Heavens! and so you are, before you have heard anything.

      OLD M. Go on! Go on!

      FRANCIS. "Pale as death, sinking down on his chair, and cursing the day when his ear was first greeted with the lisping cry of 'Father!' I have not yet been able to discover all, and of the little I do know I dare tell you only a part. Your brother now seems to have filled up the measure of his infamy.