Chapter 9

_The mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress._

_Alhadra._ Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold; { The hanging Act V, l. 41. { The flower-like woods, most lovely in decay, The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands, Lie in the silent moonshine: and the owl, (Strange! very strange!) the scritch-owl only wakes! Sole voice, sole eye of all this world of beauty! Unless, perhaps, she sing her screeching song To a herd of wolves, that skulk athirst for blood. Why such a thing am I?--Where are these men? I need the sympathy of human faces, To beat away this deep contempt for all things, Which quenches my revenge. O! would to Alla, The raven, or the sea-mew, were appointed To bring me food! or rather that my soul Could drink in life from the universal air! It were a lot divine in some small skiff Along some Ocean's boundless solitude, To float for ever with a careless course, And think myself the only being alive.

[_Vide post Osorio_, Act V, ll. 39-56.]

My children!--Isidore's children!--Son of Valdez, This hath new strung mine arm. Thou coward tyrant! To stupify a woman's heart with anguish, Till she forgot--even that she was a mother!

[_She fixes her eye on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish garments and Moorish armour. They form a circle at a distance round ALHADRA, and remain silent till NAOMI enters._

Remorse.

[337] the] these Remorse.

[342] _spell_-blasted] spell-blasted Remorse.

[345] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[348] _All_] _All Morescoes._ Remorse.

[352] _One to Another_] _One Morescoe (to another)._ Remorse.

[353] Murder? Not murder'd? Remorse.

[After 353] [Stage-direction] _Alhadra (to Naomi, who advances from the circle)._ Remorse.

[359] house] sons MS. III. Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez Remorse.

[After 359] _Enter_ Warville. MS. III.

[_A pause._

Ordonio was your chieftain's murderer

Remorse.

[360-70] Erased MS. III.

[360-75] om. Remorse.

[373-80] Erased MS. III.

[375] Stage-direction _All (kneeling)._ Remorse.

[After 375] _Alhadra._ This night your chieftain armed himself Remorse.

[Affixed to 375] (not in S. T. C.'s handwriting) and erased:

_Naomi._ Proceed, proceed, Alhadra.

_Alhadra._ Yestermorning He stood before our house, startful and gloomy, And stirr'd up fierce dispute with Ferdinand, I saw him when the vehement Gripe of Conscience Had wrenched his features to a visible agony. When he was gone Ferdinand sighed out 'Villain' And spake no other word.

_Warville (mournfully)._ The brother of Albert.

MS. III erased.

[_Note._--Warville was a character introduced into the deleted passage 360-70, the name being always altered by S. T. C. to 'Maurice'.]

[376-84] om. Remorse.

[384] its] their Corr. in MS. III.

[386] _there_] there Remorse.

[388] a pause] a while Remorse.

[397] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[399] A brief while] A little while Corr. in MS. III erased.

[402] God] Heaven Remorse.

[404] _light_] light Remorse.

[405] _hideous_] hideous Remorse.

[407] while] whilst Remorse.

[409] Erased MS. III. _Naomi._ Comfort her, Alla! Remorse.

[414] go] onward Remorse.

[421] his] the MS. III.

[After 425

_All._ Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following her._

Remorse.

ACT THE FIFTH

SCENE THE FIRST.--_The Sea Shore._

_NAOMI and a_ Moresco.

_Moresco._ This was no time for freaks of useless vengeance.

_Naomi._ True! but Francesco, the Inquisitor, Thou know'st the bloodhound--'twas a strong temptation. And when they pass'd within a mile of his house, We could not curb them in. They swore by Mahomet, 5 It were a deed of treachery to their brethren To sail from Spain and leave that man alive.

_Moresco._ Where is Alhadra?

_Naomi._ She moved steadily on Unswerving from the path of her resolve. Yet each strange object fix'd her eye: for grief 10 Doth love to dally with fantastic shapes, And smiling, like a sickly moralist, Gives some resemblance of her own concerns To the straws of chance, and things inanimate. I seek her here; stand thou upon the watch. 15

[_Exit_ Moresco.

_Naomi (looking wistfully to the distance)._ Stretch'd on the rock! It must be she--Alhadra!

[_ALHADRA rises from the rock, and advances slowly, as if musing._

_Naomi._ Once more, well met! what ponder'st thou so deeply?

_Alhadra._ I scarce can tell thee! For my many thoughts Troubled me, till with blank and naked mind I only listen'd to the dashing billows. 20 It seems to me, I could have closed my eyes And wak'd without a dream of what has pass'd; So well it counterfeited quietness, This wearied heart of mine!

_Naomi._ 'Tis thus by nature Wisely ordain'd, that so excess of sorrow 25 Might bring its own cure with it.

_Alhadra._ Would to Heaven That it had brought its last and certain cure! That ruin in the wood.

_Naomi._ It is a place Of ominous fame; but 'twas the shortest road, Nor could we else have kept clear of the village. 30 Yet some among us, as they scal'd the wall, Mutter'd old rhyming prayers.

_Alhadra._ On that broad wall I saw a skull; a poppy grew beside it, There was a ghastly solace in the sight!

_Naomi._ I mark'd it not, and in good truth the night-bird 35 Curdled my blood, even till it prick'd the heart. Its note comes dreariest in the fall of the year:

[_Looking round impatiently._

Why don't they come? I will go forth and meet them.

[_Exit NAOMI._

_Alhadra (alone)._ The hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem'd As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold, 40 The hanging woods, most lovely in decay, The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands, Lay in the silent moonshine; and the owl, (Strange! very strange!) the scritch owl only wak'd, Sole voice, sole eye of all that world of beauty! 45 Why such a thing am I! Where are these men? I need the sympathy of human faces To beat away this deep contempt for all things Which quenches my revenge. Oh!--would to Alla The raven and the sea-mew were appointed 50 To bring me food, or rather that my soul Could drink in life from the universal air! It were a lot divine in some small skiff, Along some ocean's boundless solitude, To float for ever with a careless course, 55 And think myself the only being alive! [_NAOMI re-enters._

_Naomi._ Thy children----

_Alhadra._ Children? _Whose_ children?

[_A pause--then fiercely._

Son of Velez, This hath new-strung my arm! Thou coward tyrant, To stupify a woman's heart with anguish, 60 Till she forgot even that she was a mother!

[_A noise--enter a part of the_ Morescoes; _and from the opposite side of the stage a_ Moorish Seaman.

_Moorish Seaman._ The boat is on the shore, the vessel waits. Your wives and children are already stow'd; I left them prattling of the Barbary coast, Of Mosks, and minarets, and golden crescents. 65 Each had her separate dream; but all were gay, Dancing, in thought, to finger-beaten timbrels!

[_Enter MAURICE and the rest of the_ Morescoes _dragging in FRANCESCO._

_Francesco._ O spare me, spare me! only spare my life!

_An Old Man._ All hail, Alhadra! O that thou hadst heard him When first we dragg'd him forth! [_Then turning to the band._ Here! in her presence---- 70

[_He advances with his sword as about to kill him. MAURICE leaps in and stands with his drawn sword between FRANCESCO and the_ Morescoes.

_Maurice._ Nay, but ye shall not!

_Old Man._ Shall not? Hah? Shall not?

_Maurice._ What, an unarm'd man? A man that never wore a sword? A priest? It is unsoldierly! I say, ye shall not!

_Old Man (turning to the bands)._ He bears himself most like an insolent Spaniard! 75

_Maurice._ And ye like slaves, that have destroy'd their master, But know not yet what freedom means; how holy And just a thing it is! He's a fallen foe! Come, come, forgive him!

_All._ No, by Mahomet!

_Francesco._ O mercy, mercy! talk to them of mercy! 80

_Old Man._ Mercy to thee! No, no, by Mahomet!

_Maurice._ Nay, Mahomet taught mercy and forgiveness. I am sure he did!

_Old Man._ Ha! Ha! Forgiveness! Mercy!

_Maurice._ If he did not, he needs it for himself!

_Alhadra._ Blaspheming fool! the law of Mahomet 85 Was given by him, who framed the soul of man. This the best proof--it fits the soul of man! Ambition, glory, thirst of enterprize, The deep and stubborn purpose of revenge, With all the boiling revelries of pleasure-- 90 These grow in the heart, yea, intertwine their roots With its minutest fibres! And that Being Who made us, laughs to scorn the lying faith, Whose puny precepts, like a wall of sand, Would stem the full tide of predestined Nature! 95

_Naomi (who turns toward Francesco with his sword)._ Speak!

_All (to Alhadra)._ Speak!

_Alhadra._ Is the murderer of your chieftain dead? Now as God liveth, who hath suffer'd him To make my children orphans, none shall die Till I have seen his blood! Off with him to the vessel!

[_A part of the_ Morescoes _hurry him off._

_Alhadra._ The Tyger, that with unquench'd cruelty, 100 Still thirsts for blood, leaps on the hunter's spear With prodigal courage. 'Tis not so with man.

_Maurice._ It is not so, remember that, my friends! Cowards are cruel, and the cruel cowards.

_Alhadra._ Scatter yourselves, take each a separate way, 105 And move in silence to the house of Velez. [_Exeunt._

SCENE.--_A Dungeon._

_ALBERT (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds._

_Albert._ And this place my forefathers made for men! This is the process of our love and wisdom To each poor brother who offends against us-- Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty? 110 Is this the only cure? Merciful God! Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up By ignorance and parching poverty, His energies roll back upon his heart, And stagnate and corrupt till changed to poison, 115 They break out on him like a loathsome plague-spot! Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks-- And this is their best cure! uncomforted And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, And savage faces at the clanking hour 120 Seen thro' the steaming vapours of his dungeon By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies Circled with evil, till his very soul Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform'd By sights of ever more deformity! 125 With other ministrations thou, O Nature! Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child: Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets, Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, 130 Till he relent, and can no more endure To be a jarring and a dissonant thing Amid this general dance and minstrelsy; But bursting into tears wins back his way, His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz'd 135 By the benignant touch of love and beauty.

[_A noise at the dungeon-door. It opens, and OSORIO enters with a goblet in his hand._

_Osorio._ Hail, potent wizard! In my gayer mood I pour'd forth a libation to old Pluto; And as I brimm'd the bowl, I thought of thee!

_Albert (in a low voice)._ I have not summon'd up my heart to give 140 That pang, which I must give thee, son of Velez!

_Osorio (with affected levity)._ Thou hast conspired against my life and honour, Hast trick'd me foully; yet I hate thee not! Why should I hate thee? This same world of ours-- It is a puddle in a storm of rain, 145 And we the air-bladders, that course up and down, And joust and tilt in merry tournament, And when one bubble runs foul of another,

[_Waving his hand at ALBERT._

The lesser must needs break!

_Albert._ I see thy heart! There is a frightful glitter in thine eye, 150 Which doth betray thee. Crazy-conscienc'd man, This is the gaiety of drunken anguish, Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt, And quell each human feeling!

_Osorio._ Feeling! feeling! The death of a man--the breaking of a bubble. 155 'Tis true, I cannot sob for such misfortunes! But faintness, cold, and hunger--curses on me If willingly I e'er inflicted them! Come, share the beverage--this chill place demands it. Friendship and wine! [_OSORIO proffers him the goblet._

_Albert._ Yon insect on the wall, 160 Which moves this way and that its hundred legs, Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft, It were an infinitely curious thing! But it has life, Osorio! life and thought; And by the power of its miraculous will 165 Wields all the complex movements of its frame Unerringly, to pleasurable ends! Saw I that insect on this goblet's brink, I would remove it with an eager terror.

_Osorio._ What meanest thou?

_Albert._ There's poison in the wine. 170

_Osorio._ Thou hast guess'd well. There's poison in the wine. Shall we throw dice, which of us two shall drink it? For one of us must die!

_Albert._ Whom dost thou think me?

_Osorio._ The accomplice and sworn friend of Ferdinand.

_Albert._ Ferdinand! Ferdinand! 'tis a name I know not. 175

_Osorio._ Good! good! that lie! by Heaven! it has restor'd me. Now I am thy master! Villain, thou shalt drink it, Or die a bitterer death.

_Albert._ What strange solution Hast thou found out to satisfy thy fears, And drug them to unnatural sleep?

[_ALBERT takes the goblet, and with a sigh throws it on the ground._

_My_ master! 180

_Osorio._ Thou mountebank!

_Albert._ Mountebank and villain! What then art thou? For shame, put up thy sword! What boots a weapon in a wither'd arm? I fix mine eye upon thee, and thou tremblest! I speak--and fear and wonder crush thy rage, 185 And turn it to a motionless distraction! Thou blind self-worshipper! thy pride, thy cunning, Thy faith in universal villainy, Thy shallow sophisms, thy pretended scorn For all thy human brethren--out upon them! 190 What have they done for thee? Have they given thee peace? Cured thee of starting in thy sleep? or made The darkness pleasant, when thou wakest at midnight? Art happy when alone? can'st walk by thyself With even step, and quiet cheerfulness? 195 Yet, yet thou mayst be saved.

_Osorio (stupidly reiterating the word)._ Saved? saved?

_Albert._ One pang-- Could I call up one pang of true remorse!

_Osorio._ He told me of the babe, that prattled to him, His fatherless little ones! Remorse! remorse! Where gott'st thou that fool's word? Curse on remorse! 200 Can it give up the dead, or recompact A mangled body--mangled, dash'd to atoms! Not all the blessings of an host of angels Can blow away a desolate widow's curse; And tho' thou spill thy heart's blood for atonement, 205 It will not weigh against an orphan's tear.

_Albert (almost overcome by his feelings)._ But Albert----

_Osorio._ Ha! it chokes thee in the throat, Even thee! and yet, I pray thee, speak it out. Still Albert! Albert! Howl it in mine ear! Heap it, like coals of fire, upon my heart! 210 And shoot it hissing through my brain!

_Albert._ Alas-- That day, when thou didst leap from off the rock Into the waves, and grasp'd thy sinking brother, And bore him to the strand, then, son of Velez! How sweet and musical the name of Albert! 215 Then, then, Osorio! he was dear to thee, And thou wert dear to him. Heaven only knows How very dear thou wert! Why didst thou hate him? O Heaven! how he would fall upon thy neck, And weep forgiveness!

_Osorio._ Spirit of the dead! 220 Methinks I know thee! Ha!--my brain turns wild At its own dreams--off--off, fantastic shadow!

_Albert (seizing his hand)._ I fain would tell thee what I am, but dare not!

_Osorio (retiring from him)._ Cheat, villain, traitor! whatsoe'er thou be I fear thee, man!

[_He starts, and stands in the attitude of listening._

And is _this_ too my madness? 225

_Albert._ It is the step of one that treads in fear Seeking to cheat the echo.

_Osorio._ It approaches-- This nook shall hide me.

[_MARIA enters from a plank which slips to and fro._

_Maria._ I have put aside The customs and the terrors of a woman, To work out thy escape. Stranger! begone, 230 And only tell me what thou know'st of Albert.

[_ALBERT takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her with unutterable tenderness._

_Albert._ Maria! _my_ Maria!

_Maria._ Do not mock me. This is my face--and thou--ha! who art thou? Nay, I will call thee Albert!

[_She falls upon his neck. OSORIO leaps out from the nook with frantic wildness, and rushes towards ALBERT with his sword. MARIA gapes at him, as one helpless with terror, then leaves ALBERT, and flings herself upon OSORIO, arresting his arm._

_Maria._ Madman, stop!

_Albert (with majesty and tenderness)._ Does then this thin disguise impenetrably 235 Hide Albert from thee? Toil and painful wounds, And long imprisonment in unwholesome dungeons, Have marr'd perhaps all trace and lineament Of what I was! But chiefly, chiefly, brother! My anguish for thy guilt. Spotless Maria, 240 I thought thee guilty too! Osorio, brother! Nay, nay, thou _shalt_ embrace me!

_Osorio (drawing back and gazing at Albert with a countenance expressive at once of awe and terror)._ Touch me not! Touch not pollution, Albert!--I will die!

[_He attempts to fall on his sword. ALBERT and MARIA struggle with him._

_Albert._ We will invent some tale to save your honour. Live, live, Osorio!

_Maria._ You may yet be happy. 245

_Osorio (looking at Maria)._ O horror! Not a thousand years in heaven Could recompose this miserable heart, Or make it capable of one brief joy. Live! live!--why yes! 'Twere well to live with you-- For is it fit a villain should be proud? 250 My brother! I will kneel to you, my brother!

[_Throws himself at ALBERT'S feet._

Forgive me, Albert!--_Curse_ me with forgiveness!

_Albert._ Call back thy soul, my brother! and look round thee. Now is the time for greatness. Think that Heaven----

_Maria._ O mark his eye! he hears not what you say. 255

_Osorio (pointing at vacancy)._ Yes, mark his eye! there's fascination in it. Thou said'st thou didst not know him. That is he! He comes upon me!

_Albert (lifting his eye to heaven)._ Heal, O heal him, Heaven!

_Osorio._ Nearer and nearer! And I cannot stir! Will no one hear these stifled groans, and wake me? 260 He would have died to save me, and I kill'd him-- A husband and a father!

_Maria._ Some secret poison Drinks up his spirit!

_Osorio (fiercely recollecting himself)._ Let the eternal Justice Prepare my punishment in the obscure world. I will not bear to live--to live! O agony! 265 And be myself alone, my own sore torment!

[_The doors of the dungeon are burst open with a crash. ALHADRA, MAURICE, and the band of_ Morescoes _enter._

_Alhadra (pointing at Osorio)._ Seize first that man!

[_The_ Moors _press round._

_Albert (rushing in among them)._ Draw thy sword, Maurice, and defend my brother.

[_A scuffle, during which they disarm MAURICE._

_Osorio._ Off, ruffians! I have flung away my sword. Woman, my life is thine! to thee I give it. 270 Off! he that touches me with his hand of flesh, I'll rend his limbs asunder! I have strength With this bare arm to scatter you like ashes!

_Alhadra._ My husband----

_Osorio._ Yes! I murder'd him most foully.

_Albert (throws himself on the earth)._ O horrible!

_Alhadra._ Why didst thou leave his children? 275 Demon! thou shouldst have sent thy dogs of hell To lap _their_ blood. Then, then, I might have harden'd My soul in misery, and have had comfort. I would have stood far off, quiet tho' dark, And bade the race of men raise up a mourning 280 For the deep horror of a desolation Too great to be one soul's particular lot! Brother of Zagri! let me lean upon thee.

[_Struggling to suppress her anguish._

The time is not yet come for woman's anguish-- I have not seen his blood. Within an hour 285 Those little ones will crowd around and ask me, Where is our father? [_Looks at OSORIO._ I shall curse thee then! Wert thou in heaven, my curse would pluck thee thence!

_Maria._ See--see! he doth repent. I kneel to thee. Be merciful!

[_MARIA kneels to her. ALHADRA regards her face wistfully._

_Alhadra._ Thou art young and innocent; 290 'Twere merciful to kill thee! Yet I will not. And for thy sake none of this house shall perish, Save only he.

_Maria._ That aged man, his father!

_Alhadra (sternly)._ Why had he such a son?

[_The_ Moors _press on._

_Maria (still kneeling, and wild with affright)._ Yet spare his life! They must not murder him!

_Alhadra._ And is it then 295 An enviable lot to waste away With inward wounds, and like the spirit of chaos To wander on disquietly thro' the earth, Cursing all lovely things? to let him live-- It were a deep revenge!

_All the band cry out_--No mercy! no mercy! 300

[_NAOMI advances with the sword towards OSORIO._

_Alhadra._ Nay, bear him forth! Why should this innocent maid Behold the ugliness of death?

_Osorio (with great majesty)._ O woman! I have stood silent like a slave[596:1] before thee, That I might taste the wormwood and the gall, And satiate this self-accusing spirit 305 With bitterer agonies than death can give.

[_The_ Moors _gather round him in a crowd, and pass off the stage._

_Alhadra._ I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast ordain'd it wisely, That still extremes bring their own cure. That point In misery which makes the oppressed man Regardless of his own life, makes him too 310 Lord of the oppressor's! Knew I an hundred men Despairing, but not palsied by despair, This arm should shake the kingdoms of this world; The deep foundations of iniquity Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them; 315 The strong holds of the cruel men should fall, Their temples and their mountainous towers should fall; Till desolation seem'd a beautiful thing, And all that were and had the spirit of life Sang a new song to him who had gone forth 320 Conquering and still to conquer!

THE END[597:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[596:1] In _MS. II_ 'worm' has the place of 'slave', which is the word in _MS. I_.

[597:1] On a blank page of _MS. III_ some one, probably Bowles, has written:--'Upon the whole a very masterly production, and with judicious contractments might be rendered an interesting Drama on the stage.'

LINENOTES:

[1-106] om. Remorse.

[39] The hanging] Yon pendent Corr. in MS. III.

[41]

hanging] { pendent { flowerlike

Corr. in MS. III.

[45] that] this Corr. in MS. III.

[Affixed to 57] _Naomi, the second in command to Isidore, enters in haste._ MS. III erased.

[After 61] stage-direction erased MS. III.

[62] _Moorish Seaman_] _Naomi_ Corr. in MS. III.

[100-106] Erased MS. III.

[107 foll.] _vide ante_, 'The Dungeon,' p. 185.

[121] steaming] steam and Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[125] ever more] _evermore_ Remorse.

[After 136]

I am chill and weary! Yon rude bench of stone, In that dark angle, the sole resting-place! But the self-approving mind is its own light, And Life's best warmth still radiates from the heart Where love sits brooding, and an honest purpose.

_Enter TERESA._ [_Retires out of sight._

Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

Stage-direction affixed to 136 and 136-9 erased in MS. III: om. Remorse.

[Between 136 and 137:]

I am chill and weary, &c. . . . honest purpose.

_Enter TERESA with a taper._

_Teresa._ It has chilled my very life--my own voice scares me; Yet when I hear it not I seem to lose The substance of my being--my strongest grasp Sends inwards but weak witness that I am. I seek to cheat the echo.--How the half sounds Blend with this strangled light! Is he not here-- [_Looking round._ O for one human face here--but to see One human face here to sustain me.--Courage! It is but my own fear! The life within me, It sinks and wavers like this cone of flame, Beyond which I scarce dare look onward! Oh! If I faint? If this inhuman den should be At once my death-bed and my burial vault?

[_Faintly screams as ALVAR emerges from the recess._

_Alvar (rushes towards her, and catches her as she is falling)._ O gracious heaven! it is, it is Teresa! Shall I reveal myself? The sudden shock Of rapture will blow out this spark of life, And joy complete what terror has begun. O ye impetuous beatings here, be still! Teresa, best beloved! pale, pale, and cold! Her pulse doth flutter! Teresa! my Teresa!

_Teresa (recovering)._ I heard a voice; but often in my dreams I hear that voice! and wake and try--and try-- To hear it waking! but I never could-- And 'tis so now--even so! Well! he is dead-- Murdered perhaps! And I am faint, and feel As if it were no painful thing to die!

_Alvar._ Believe it not, sweet maid! Believe it not, Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture Framed by a guilty wretch.

_Teresa._ Ha! Who art thou?

_Alvar._ Suborned by his brother--

_Teresa._ Didst thou murder him? And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man, I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee!

_Alvar._ Ordonio--he----

_Teresa._ If thou didst murder him-- His spirit ever at the throne of God Asks mercy for thee: prays for mercy for thee, With tears in Heaven!

_Alvar._ Alvar was not murdered. Be calm! be calm, sweet maid!

_Teresa._ Nay, nay, but tell me! [_A pause._ O 'tis lost again! This dull confused pain-- [_A pause._ Mysterious man! Methinks I can not fear thee: for thine eye Doth swim with love and pity--Well! Ordonio-- Oh my foreboding heart! And he suborned thee, And thou didst spare his life? Blessings shower on thee, As many as the drops twice counted o'er In the fond faithful heart of his Teresa!

_Alvar._ I can endure no more. The Moorish sorcerer Exists but in the stain upon his face. That picture----

_Teresa._ Ha! speak on!

_Alvar._ Beloved Teresa! It told but half the truth. O let this portrait Tell all--that Alvar lives--that he is here! Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar.

[_Takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her._

_Teresa (receiving the portrait)._ The same--it is the same. Ah! Who art thou? Nay, I will call thee, Alvar! [_She falls on his neck._

_Alvar._ O joy unutterable! But hark! a sound as of removing bars At the dungeon's outer door. A brief, brief while Conceal thyself, my love! It is Ordonio. For the honour of our race, for our dear father; O for himself too (he is still my brother) Let me recall him to his nobler nature, That he may wake as from a dream of murder! O let me reconcile him to himself, Open the sacred source of penitent tears, And be once more his own beloved Alvar.

_Teresa._ O my all virtuous love! I fear to leave thee With that obdurate man.

_Alvar._ Thou dost not leave me! But a brief while retire into the darkness: O that my joy could spread its sunshine round thee!

_Teresa._ The sound of thy voice shall be my music! Alvar! my Alvar! am I sure I hold thee? Is it no dream? thee in my arms, my Alvar! [_Exit._

[_A noise at the dungeon door. It opens, and ORDONIO enters, with a goblet in his hand._

Remorse.

[139] of] on Remorse.

[140-1] and stage-direction before 142 om. Remorse.

[145] 'Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain Remorse.

[148] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[149] lesser must needs] weaker needs must Remorse.

[151-2]

Inly-tortured man, This is the revelry of a drunken anguish

Remorse.

[Before 160] [_ORDONIO proffers the goblet._ Remorse.

[160] Friendship and wine om. Remorse.

[161] legs] limbs Remorse.

[164] life and thought] life, enjoyment Remorse.

[168] brink] brim Remorse.

[169] I would remove it with an anxious pity Remorse.

[171-2]

Thou hast guessed right; there's poison in the wine. There's poison in't--which of us two shall drink it?

Remorse.

[Between 174 and 176:]

_Alvar._ I know him not. And yet methinks, I have heard the name but lately. Means he the husband of the Moorish woman? Isidore? Isidore?

Remorse.

[175] om. Remorse.

[180] Stage-direction [_ALVAR takes the goblet, and throws it to the ground._ Remorse. _My_] My Remorse.

[196] Stage-direction om. Remorse.]

[198] babe] babes Remorse.

[207] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[223] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[224] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[225-35] om. Remorse.

[Between 225 and 235]

_Teresa (rushing out and falling on ALVAR'S neck)._ Ordonio! 'tis thy brother!

[_ORDONIO runs upon ALVAR with his sword. TERESA flings herself on ORDONIO and arrests his arm._

Stop, madman, stop!

Remorse.

[235] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[238] trace] trial corr. in MS. III; trait Remorse.

[240-41] Spotless . . . guilty too om. Remorse.

[242] _shalt_] shalt Remorse.

[After 242] stage-direction (_Drawing back and gazing at Alvar_) Remorse.

[Between 243 and 245]

_Alvar._ We will find means to save your honour. Live, Oh live, Ordonio! for our father's sake! Spare his gray hairs!

_Teresa._ And you may yet be happy

_Ordonio._ O horror, &c.

Remorse.

[After 243] _struggle with_] _prevent_ Remorse.

[After 251] [_Throws himself, &c._] _Kneeling_ Remorse.

[252] _Curse_] Curse Remorse.

[253] my brother] Ordonio Remorse.

[256] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[258] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[263] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[After 266]

[_The doors of the dungeon are broken open, and in rush ALHADRA, and the band of_ Morescoes.

_Alh._ Seize first that man!

[_ALVAR presses onward to defend ORDONIO._

_Ord._ Off, &c.

Remorse.

[274] _Alvar and Teresa._ O horrible Remorse.

[277] _their_] their Remorse.

[283] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[287] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Between 288 and 304:]

_Teresa._ He doth repent! See, see, I kneel to thee! O let him live! That aged man, his father----

_Alhadra._ Why had he such a son?

[_Shouts from the distance of_, Rescue! Rescue! Alvar! Alvar! _and the voice of VALDEZ heard._

Rescue?--and Isidore's spirit unavenged?-- The deed be mine! [_Suddenly stabs ORDONIO._ Now take my Life!

_Ordonio (staggering from the wound)._ Atonement!

_Alvar (while with TERESA supporting ORDONIO)._ Arm of avenging Heaven Thou hast snatched from me my most cherished hope-- But go! my word was pledged to thee.

_Ordonio._ Away! Brave not my father's rage! I thank thee! Thou-- [_Then turning his eyes languidly to ALVAR._ She hath avenged the blood of Isidore! I stood in silence like a slave before her

Remorse.

[290-303] om. Remorse.

[Affixed to 300] _ALHADRA snatches it from him and suddenly stabs ORDONIO. ALVAR rushes towards him through the_ Moors, _and catches him in his arms, &c._ MS. III.

[303-4]

'Tis well! thou hast avenged thyself I have stood in silence like a slave before thee

Corr. in MS. III.

[305] spirit] heart Remorse.

[After 306]

Forgive me, Alvar! O couldst thou forgive thyself.

Corr. in MS. III.

Forgive me, Alvar! Oh!--couldst thou forget me! [_Dies._

[_ALVAR and TERESA bend over the body of ORDONIO._

_Alh._ (_to the_ Moors). I thank thee, Heaven! &c.

Remorse.

_Shouts of_ Alvar! _Alvar!_ _Noises heard; a_ Moor _rushes in._

_Moor._ We are surprised, away! away! the instant-- The country is in arms. The old man heads them And still cries out, 'My son! My son is living' Haste to the shore! They come the opposite road.

_ALHADRA (to ALVAR)._ Thou then art Alvar! to my aid and safety Thy word stands pledged.

_Alvar._ Arm of avenging Heaven! My word stands pledged nor shall it be retracted.

(_The_ Moors _surround ALHADRA) and force her off. The stage fills with armed peasants. ALI and VALDEZ at their head. VALDEZ rushes into ALVAR'S arms and the Curtain drops._

[Alternative ending in S. T. C.'s handwriting affixed to lines 307-21, MS. III]

[320] him] her Remorse.

[After 321]

[_ALHADRA hurries off with the_ Moors; _the stage fills with armed_ Peasants _and_ Servants, _ZULIMEZ and VALDEZ at their head. VALDEZ rushes into ALVAR'S arms._

_Alvar._ Turn not thy face that way, my father! hide, Oh hide it from his eye! Oh let thy joy Flow in unmingled stream through thy first blessing.

[_both kneel to VALDEZ._

_Valdez._ My Son! My Alvar! bless, Oh bless him, heaven!

_Teresa._ Me too, my Father?

_Valdez._ Bless, Oh, bless my children!

[_both rise._

_Alvar._ Delights so full, if unalloyed with grief, Were ominous. In these strange dread events Just Heaven instructs us with an awful voice, That Conscience rules us e'en against our choice. Our inward monitress to guide or warn, If listened to; but if repelled with scorn, At length as dire Remorse, she reappears, Works in our guilty hopes, and selfish fears! Still bids, Remember! and still cries, Too late! And while she scares us, goads us to our fate.

Remorse.

THE PICCOLOMINI[598:1]

OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN

A DRAMA

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

It was my intention to have prefixed a Life of Wallenstein to this translation; but I found that it must either have occupied a space wholly disproportionate to the nature of the publication, or have been merely a meagre catalogue of events narrated not more fully than they already are in the Play itself. The recent translation, likewise, of Schiller's _History of the Thirty Years' War_ diminished the motives thereto. In the translation I endeavoured to render my Author literally wherever I was not prevented by absolute differences of idiom; but I am conscious that in two or three short passages I have been guilty of dilating the original; and, from anxiety to give the full meaning, have weakened the force. In the metre I have availed myself of no other liberties than those which Schiller had permitted to himself, except the occasional breaking-up of the line by the substitution of a trochee for an iambus; of which liberty, so frequent in our tragedies, I find no instance in these dramas.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

FOOTNOTES:

[598:1] First published in a single octavo volume, 1800: included in 1828, 1829, 1834, and in _Dramatic Works_ (one vol. 8vo) 1852. The _Piccolomini_ and the _Death of Wallenstein_ were translated from MS. copies which had been acquired by the Messrs. Longman. The MS. copy of the original of the _Death of Wallenstein_ is in the possession of Mrs. Alexander Gillman. The MS. of the copy of the original of the _Piccolomini_ was at one time in the possession of Mr. Henry R. Mark of 17 Highbury Crescent. A note in Schiller's handwriting, dated 'Jena, 30. September 1799', attesting the genuineness of the copies, is attached to either play. The MS. copy of _Wallenstein's Camp_ ('Wallenstein's Lager'), which Coleridge did not attempt to translate, is not forthcoming. See two articles by Ferdinand Freiligrath, published in the _Athenæum_, July 15 and August 31, 1861. See, too, _Die Wallensteinübersetzung von Samuel T. Coleridge und ihr Deutsches Original_ . . . vorgelegt von Hans Roscher. Borna-Leipzig, 1905. A copy of the translation which Macready marked for acting is in the Forster Library, which forms part of the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington. See note by J. Dykes Campbell, _P. W._, 1893, p. 649. An annotated copy (in Coleridge's handwriting) of the translation of the _Piccolomini_ and the _Death of Wallenstein_, presented by Mr. Shadworth Hodgson, is in the Library of Rugby School [_MS. R._]. The MS. contents of this volume are now published for the first time. Coleridge began his translation of the two plays at No. 21 Buckingham Street, Strand, in December, 1799, and finished the 'last sheet' at Town End, Grasmere, April 20, 1800.

'These dramas have two grievous faults: they are prolix in the particular parts and slow in the general movement. But they have passion, distinct and diversified character, and they abound in passages of great moral and poetic beauty.' S. T. COLERIDGE.

'The defects of these dramas are all of an instructive character; for tho' not the products of genius, like those of Shakespere, they result from an energetic and thinking mind. (1) The speeches are seldom suited to characters--the characters are truly diversified and distinctly conceived--but we learn them from the actions and from the descriptions given by other characters, or from particular speeches. The brutal Illo repeatedly talks language which belongs to the Countess, &c. (2) Astrology (an undramatic superstition because it inspires no terror, and its foundation of imagination is overbuilt and concealed by its scientific superstructure, with other cause from the imagery, is thus unpopular or swallowed up in more general and pleasing associations, as the Sun and Moon) is made prophetic, and yet treated ludicrously: the author as philosopher is in compleat discord with himself as Historian. This is a most grievous fault. (3) The assassins talk ludicrously. This is a most egregious misimitation of Shakespere--Schiller should not have attempted tragico-comedy, and none but Shakespere has succeeded. It is wonderful, however, that Schiller, who had studied Shakespere, should not have perceived his divine judgment in the management of his assassins, as in Macbeth. They are fearful and almost pitiable Beings--not loathsome, ludicrous miscreants. (4) The character of Thekla = O, the bold Heroine of any novel. Nothing of the Convent, no superstition, nothing of the Daughter of Wallenstein, nothing that her past life is represented by. (5) Wallenstein is a finer psychological than dramatic, and a more dramatic than a tragic character. Shakespere draws _strength_ as in Richard the Third, and even when he blends weakness as in Macbeth--yet it is weakness of a specific kind that leaves the strength in full and fearful energy--but Schiller has drawn weakness imposing on itself the love of power for the sense of strength (a fine conception in itself, but not tragic--at least for the principal character of a long drama).--Hence Wallenstein, with one exception (that of the Regimental Deputation to him in the Second Part) evaporates in mock-mysterious speeches. These are the chief defects, I think. On the other hand, the character of Butler is admirable throughout. Octavio is very grand, and Max, tho' it may be an easy character to draw, for a man of thought and lofty feeling--for a man who possesses all the _analoga_ of genius, is yet so delightful, and its moral influence so grand and salutary, that we must allow it great praise. The childish love-toying with the glove and Aunt Tertsky in the first act should be omitted. Certain whole scenes are masterly, and far above anything since the dramatists of Eliz. & James the first.' _Note on fly-leaf of annotated copy (MS. R.)._

THE PICCOLOMINI[600:1]