No More Learning

Think ye that I will tremble, spirits of my slaughtered victims? No,
I will not tremble. (Trembling violently. ) The shrieks of your dying
agonies--your black, convulsive features--your ghastly bleeding wounds--
what are they all but links of one indissoluble chain of destiny, which
hung upon the temperament of my father, the life's blood of my mother,
the humors of my nurses and tutors, and even upon the holiday pastimes
of my childhood! (Shaking with horror. ) Why has my Perillus made of me
a brazen bull, whose burning entrails yearn after human flesh? (He
lifts the pistol again to his head. )

Time and Eternity! --linked together by a single instant! Fearful key,
which locks behind me the prisonhouse of life, and opens before me the
habitations of eternal night--tell me--oh, tell me--whither--whither
wilt thou lead me? Strange, unexplored land! Humanity is unnerved at
the fearful thought, the elasticity of our finite nature is paralyzed,
and fancy, that wanton ape of the senses, juggles our credulity with
appalling phantoms. No! no! a man must be firm. Be what thou wilt,
thou undefined futurity, so I remain but true to myself. Be what thou
wilt, so I but take this inward self hence with me. External forms are
but the trappings of the man. My heaven and my hell is within.

What if Thou shouldst doom me to be sole inhabitant of some burnt-out
world which thou hast banished from thy sight, where darkness and
never-ending desolation were all my prospect; then would my creative
brain people the silent waste with its own images, and I should have
eternity for leisure to unravel the complicated picture of universal
wretchedness. Or wilt thou make me pass through ever-repeated births
and ever-changing scenes of misery, stage by stage*--to annihilation?

[This and other passages will remind the reader of Cato's soliloquy
"It must be so, Plato; thou reasonest well. " But the whole bears a
strong resemblance to Hamlet's "To be or not to be;" and some
passages in Measure for Measure, Act iii, Sc. 1. ]

Can I not burst asunder the life-threads woven for me in another world
as easily as I do these? Thou mayest reduce me into nothing; but Thou
canst not take from me this power. (He loads the pistol, and then
suddenly pauses. ) And shall I then rush into death from a coward fear
of the ills of life? Shall I yield to misery the palm of victory over
myself? No! I will endure it! (He flings the pistol away. ) Misery
shall blunt its edge against my pride! Be my destiny fulfilled! (It
grows darker and darker. )

HERMANN (coming through the forest). Hark! hark! the owl screeches
horribly--the village clock strikes twelve. Well, well--villainy is
asleep--no listeners in these wilds. (He goes to the castle and
knocks. ) Come forth, thou man of sorrow! tenant of the miserable
dungeon! thy meal awaits thee.

CHARLES (stepping gently back, unperceived). What means this?

VOICE (from within the castle). Who knocks? Is it you, Hermann, my
raven?

HERMANN. Yes, 'tis Hermann, your raven. Come to the grating and eat.
(Owls are screeching. ) Your night companions make a horrid noise, old
man! Do you relish your repast?

VOICE. Yes--I was very hungry. Thanks to thee, thou merciful sender of
ravens, for this thy bread in the wilderness! And how is my dear child,
Hermann?

HERMANN. Hush! --hark! --A noise like snoring! Don't you hear something?

VOICE. What? Do you hear anything?

HERMANN. 'Tis the whistling of the wind through the crannies of the
tower--a serenading which makes one's teeth chatter, and one's nails
turn blue. Hark! tis there again. I still fancy I hear snoring. You
have company, old man. Ugh! ugh! ugh!

VOICE. Do you see anything?

HERMANN. Farewell! farewell! this is a fearful place. Go down into
your bole,--thy deliverer, thy avenger is above. Oh! accursed son! (Is
about to fly. )

CHARLES (stepping forth with horror). Stand!

HERMANN (screaming). Oh, me! *

*[In the acting edition Hermann, instead of this, says,--
'Tis one of his spies for certain, I have lost all fear (draws his
sword). Villain, defend yourself! You have a man before you. ]

MOOR. I'll have an answer (strikes the sword out of his hand).
What boots this childish sword-play? Didst thou not speak of
vengeance? Vengeance belongs especially to me--of all men on
earth. Who dares interfere with my vocation?

HERMANN (starts back in affright). By heaven! That man was not
born of woman. His touch withers like the stroke of death.

VOICE. Alas, Hermann! to whom are you speaking?

MOOR. What! still those sounds? What is going on there? (Runs
towards the tower. ) Some horrible mystery, no doubt, lies concealed
in that tower. This sword shall bring it to light.

HERMANN (comes forward trembling). Terrible stranger! art thou
the demon of this fearful desert--or perhaps 'one of the ministers
of that unfathonable retribution who make their circuit in this
lower world, and take account of all the deeds of darkness? Oh!
if thou art, be welcome to this tower of horrors!

MOOR. Well guessed, wanderer of the night! You have divined my
function. Exterminating Angel is my name; but I am flesh and blood
like thee. Is this some miserable wretch, cast out of men, and
buried in this dungeon? I will loosen his chains. Once more,
speak! thou voice of terror Where is the door?

HERMANN. As soon could Satan force the gates of heaven as thou
that door. Retire, thou man of might! The genius of the wicked is
beyond the ordinary powers of man.

MOOR. But not the craft of robbers. (He takes some pass-keys from
his pocket. ) For once I thank heaven I've learned that craft!
These keys would mock hell's foresight. (He takes a key, and opens
the gate of the tower. An old man comes from below emaciated like
a skeleton. MOOR springs back with of right. ) Horrible spectre!
my father!

CHARLES. Stand! I say.

HERMANN. Woe! woe! woe! now all is discovered!

CHARLES. Speak! Who art thou? What brought thee here? Speak!

HERMANN. Mercy, mercy! gracious sir! Hear but one word before you
kill me.

CHARLES (drawing his sword). What am I to hear?

HERMANN. 'Tis true, he forbade me at the peril of my life--but I could
not help it--I dare not do otherwise--a God in heaven--your own
venerable father there--pity for him overcame me. Kill me, if you will!

CHARLES. There's some mystery here--Out with it! Speak! I must know
all.

VOICE (from the castle). Woe! woe! Is it you, Hermann, that are
speaking? To whom are you speaking, Hermann?

CHARLES. Some one else down there? What is the meaning of all this?
(Runs towards the castle. ) It is some prisoner whom mankind have cast
off! I will loosen his chains. Voice! Speak! Where is the door?

HERMANN. Oh, have mercy, sir--seek no further, I entreat--for mercy's
sake desist! (He stops his way. )

CHARLES. Locks, bolts, and bars, away! It must come out. Now, for the
first time, come to my aid, thief-craft! (He opens the grated iron door
with, housebreaking tools. An OLD MAN, reduced to a skeleton, comes up
from below. )

THE OLD MAN. Mercy on a poor wretch! Mercy!

CHARLES (starts back in terror). That is my father's voice!

OLD MOOR. I thank thee, merciful Heaven! The hour of deliverance has
arrived.

CHARLES. Shade of the aged Moor! what has disturbed thee in thy grave?
Has thy soul left this earth charged with some foul crime that bars the
gates of Paradise against thee? Say? --I will have masses read, to send
thy wandering spirit to its home. Hast thou buried in the earth the
gold of widows and orphans, that thou art driven to wander howling
through the midnight hour? I will snatch the hidden treasure from the
clutches of the infernal dragon, though he should vomit a thousand
redhot flames upon me, and gnash his sharp teeth against my sword. Or
comest thou, at my request, to reveal to me the mysteries of eternity?
Speak, thou! speak! I am not the man to blanch with fear!

OLD MOOR. I am not a spirit. Touch me--I live but oh! a life indeed of
misery!

CHARLES. What! hast thou not been buried?

OLD MOOR. I was buried--that is to say, a dead dog lies in the vault of
my ancestors, and I have been pining for three long moons in this dark
and loathsome dungeon, where no sunbeam shines, no warm breeze
penetrates, where no friend is seen, where the hoarse raven croaks and
owls screech their midnight concert.

CHARLES. Heaven and earth! Who has done this?

OLD MOOR. Curse him not! 'Tis my son, Francis, who did this.

CHARLES. Francis? Francis? Oh, eternal chaos!

OLD MOOR. If thou art a man, and hast a human heart--oh! my unknown
deliverer--then listen to a father's miseries which his own sons have
heaped upon him. For three long moons I have moaned my pitiful tale to
these flinty walls--but all my answer was an empty echo, that seemed to
mock my wailings. Therefore, if thou art a man, and hast a human
heart--

CHARLES. That appeal might move even wild beasts to pity.

OLD MOOR. I lay upon a sick bed, and had scarcely begun to recover a
little strength, after a dangerous illness, when a man was brought to
me, who pretended that my first-born had fallen in battle. He brought a
sword stained with his blood, and his last farewell--and said that my
curse had driven him into battle, and death, and despair.

CHARLES (turning away in violent agitation). The light breaks in upon
me!

OLD MOOR. Hear me on! I fainted at the dreadful news. They must have
thought me dead; for, when I recovered my senses, I was already in my
coffin, shrouded like a corpse. I scratched against the lid. It was
opened--'twas in the dead of night--my son Francis stood before me--
"What! " said he, with a tremendous voice, "wilt thou then live forever? "
--and with this he slammed-to the lid of the coffin. The thunder of
these words bereft me of my senses; when I awoke again, I felt that the
coffin was in motion, and being borne on wheels. At last it was opened
--I found myself at the entrance of this dungeon--my son stood before
me, and the man, too, who had brought me the bloody sword from Charles.
I fell at my son's feet, and ten times I embraced his knees, and wept,
and conjured, and supplicated, but the supplications of a father reached
not his flinty heart. "Down with the old carcass! " said he, with a
voice of thunder, "he has lived too long;"--and I was thrust down
without mercy, and my son Francis closed the door upon Me.

CHARLES. Impossible! --impossible! Your memory or senses deceive you.

OLD MOOR. Oh, that it were so! But hear me on, and restrain your rage!
There I lay for twenty hours, and not a soul cared for my misery. No
human footstep treads this solitary wild, for 'tis commonly believed
that the ghosts of my ancestors drag clanking chains through these
ruins, and chant their funeral dirge at the hour of midnight. At last
I heard the door creak again on its hinges; this man opened it, and
brought me bread and water. He told me that I had been condemned to die
of hunger, and that his life was in danger should it be discovered that
he fed me. Thus has my miserable existence been till now sustained--but
the unceasing cold--the foul air of my filthy dungeon--my incurable
grief--have exhausted my strength, and reduced my body to a skeleton. A
thousand times have I implored heaven, with tears, to put an end to my
sufferings--but doubtless the measure of my punishment is not
fulfilled,--or some happiness must be yet in store for me, for which he
deigns thus miraculously to preserve me. But I suffer justly--my
Charles! my Charles! --and before there was even a gray hair on his Head!

CHARLES. Enough! Rise! ye stocks, ye lumps of ice! ye lazy unfeeling
sleepers! Up! will none of you awake? (He fires a pistol over their
heads. )

THE ROBBERS (starting up). Ho! hallo! hallo! what is the matter?

CHARLES. Has not that tale shaken you out of your sleep? 'Tis enough
to break the sleep eternal! See here, see here! The laws of the world
have become mere dice-play; the bonds of nature are burst asunder; the
Demon of Discord has broken loose, and stalks abroad triumphant! the Son
has slain his Father!

THE ROBBERS. What does the captain say?

CHARLES. Slain! did I say? No, that is too mild a term! A son has
a thousand-fold broken his own father on the wheel,--impaled, racked,
flayed him alive! --but all these words are too feeble to express what
would make sin itself blush and cannibals shudder. For ages, no devil
ever conceived a deed so horrible. His own father! --but see, see him!
he has fainted away! His own father--the son--into this dungeon--cold--
naked--hungry--athirst--Oh! see, I pray you, see! --'tis my own father,
in very truth it is.

THE ROBBERS (come running and surround the old man). Your father?
Yours?

SCHWEITZER (approaches him reverently, and falls on his knees before
him). Father of my captain! let me kiss thy feet! My dagger is at thy
command.

CHARLES. Revenge, revenge, revenge! thou horribly injured, profaned
old man! Thus, from this moment, and forever, I rend in twain all ties
of fraternity. (He rends his garment from top to bottom. ) Here, in the
face of heaven, I curse him--curse every drop of blood which flows in
his veins! Hear me, O moon and stars! and thou black canopy of night,
that lookest down upon this horror! Hear me, thrice terrible avenger.
Thou who reignest above yon pallid orb, who sittest an avenger and a
judge above the stars, and dartest thy fiery bolts through darkness on
the head of guilt! Behold me on my knees behold me raise this hand
aloft in the gloom of night--and hear my oath--and may nature vomit me
forth as some horrible abortion from out the circle of her works if I
break that oath! Here I swear that I will never more greet the light of
day, till the blood of that foul parricide, spilt upon this stone, reeks
in misty vapor towards heaven. (He rises. )

ROBBERS. 'Tis a deed of hell! After this, who shall call us villains?
No! by all the dragons of darkness we never have done anything half so
horrible.

CHARLES. True! and by all the fearful groans of those whom your daggers
have despatched--of those who on that terrible day were consumed by
fire, or crushed by the falling tower--no thought of murder or rapine
shall be harbored in your breast, till every man among you has dyed his
garments scarlet in this monster's blood. It never, I should think,
entered your dreams, that it would fall to your lot to execute the
great decrees of heaven? The tangled web of our destiny is unravelled!
To-day, to-day, an invisible power has ennobled our craft! Worship Him
who has called you to this high destiny, who has conducted you hither,
and deemed ye worthy to be the terrible angels of his inscrutable
judgments! Uncover your heads! Bow down and kiss the dust, and rise up
sanctified. (They kneel. )

SCHWEITZER. Now, captain, issue your commands! What shall we do?

CHARLES. Rise, Schweitzer! and touch these sacred locks! (Leading him
to his father, and putting a lock of hair in his hand. ) Do you remember
still, how you, cleft the skull of that Bohemian trooper, at the moment
his sabre was descending on my head, and I had sunk down on my knees,
breathless and exhausted? 'Twas then I promised thee a reward that
should be right royal. But to this hour I have never been able to
discharge that debt.

SCHWEITZER. You swore that much to me, 'tis true; but let me call you
my debtor forever!

CHARLES. No; now will I repay thee, Schweitzer! No mortal has yet been
honored as thou shalt be. I appoint thee avenger of my father's wrongs!
(SCHWEITZER rises. )

SCHWEITZER. Mighty captain! this day you have, for the first time, made
me truly proud! Say, when, where, how shall I smite him?

CHARLES. The minutes are sacred. You must hasten to the work. Choose
the best of the band, and lead them straight to the count's castle!
Drag him from his bed, though he sleep, or he folded in the arms of
pleasure! Drag him from the table, though he be drunk! Tear him from
the crucifix, though he lie on his knees before it! But mark my words--
I charge thee, deliver him into my hands alive! I will hew that man to
pieces, and feed the hungry vultures with his flesh, who dares but graze
his skin, or injure a single hair of his head! I must have him whole.
Bring him to me whole and alive, and a million shall be thy reward.
I'll plunder kings at the risk of my life, but thou shalt have it, and
go free as air. Thou hast my purpose--see it done!

SCHWEITZER. Enough, captain! here is my hand upon it. You shall see
both of us, or neither. Come, Schweitzer's destroying angels, follow
me! (Exit with a troop. )

CHARLES. The rest of you disperse in the forest--I remain here.




ACT V.

SCENE I. A vista of rooms. Dark night.

Enter DANIEL, with a lantern and a bundle.

DANIEL. Farewell, dear home! How many happy days have I enjoyed within
these walls, while my old master lived. Tears to thy memory, thou whom
the grave has long since devoured! He deserves this tribute from an old
servant. His roof was the asylum of orphans, the refuge of the
destitute, but this son has made it a den of murderers. Farewell, thou
dear floor! How often has old Daniel scrubbed thee! Farewell, dear
stove, old Daniel takes a heavy leave of thee. All things had grown so
familiar to thee,--thou wilt feel it sorely, old Eleazar. But heaven
preserve me through grace from the wiles and assault of the tempter.
Empty I came hither--empty I will depart,--but my soul is saved! (He is
in the act of going out, when he is met by FRANCIS, rushing in, in his
dressing-gown. ) Heaven help me! Master! (He puts out his lantern. )

FRANCIS.