THE ROBBERS.

(Translated from the German of Friedrich Von Schiller.)

ACT I.

SCENE II. A Tavern on the borders of Saxony.

CHARLES MOOR (reading). SPIEGELBERG (drinking at a table). MOOR. (laying down his book.) I get weary of this paltry age when I read in my Plutarch of great men.

SPIE. (drinking.) You must read Josephus.

MOOR. The Promethean spark is burnt out, and now they take for it the flame of a tinder-theatrical fire, that will not light a tobacco-pipe. They are like rats gnawing at the club of Hercules. A French abbé teaches that Alexander was a poltroon; a consumptive professor holds at each word a bottle of sal volatile to his nose, and reads to a college about strength; fellows who are ready to faint after the slightest excess, scribble about the tactics of Hannibal; whimpering boys fish for phrases out of the battle of Cannæ, and cry over the victory of Scipio, because they must translate it.

SPIE. That is spoken like Alexander himself.

MOOR. A fair reward for your labour in the field, that you now live in the gymnasium, and your immortality is dragged about in a satchel! A costly return for your shed blood, to be wrapped round gingerbread by a poor pedlar; or, if you are fortunate, to be screwed upon stilts by a French tragedy writer, and dragged about with wires! Ha, ha, ha!

SPIE. (drinks.) Read Josephus, I say.

MOOR. Shame, shame upon this weak and sinewless age, that is fit for nothing but to ruminate on the deeds of former times, and to flay the heroes of antiquity with commentaries, and spoil them with tragedies! They trammel up their sound natures with absurd conventions, while they have not the heart to drain a glass to their welfare. They revile the shoe-black, if he gets in their way, and abuse the poor villain that they fear not. They will deify each other for a dinner, and would poison one another for a

bed that they had been outbid for at an auction. They condemn the Sadducees who do not come often enough to the church; and they count their gains at the altar,-fall on their knees, that they may stretch out their laps the wider,-look at the priest, to see how his wig is dressed. They fall in a swoon if they see a goose bleed, and clap their hands if their rival becomes a bankrupt. However earnestly I press their hand,-" But one day longer!"-in vain. "To prison with the dog!"-Prayers! oaths! tears!-(stamping on the ground.) Hell and devil!

SPIE. And for a dirty two thousand ducats, perhaps.

I will press my body into

MOOR. No, I may not think of it. stays, and lace up my will in laws. The law hath degraded that to a snail's pace which should have been the eagle's flight. The law hath never yet made one great man; but freedom breeds wonders and extremes. They palisade themselves in the stomach of a tyrant, and court the humour of his maw. Oh that the spirit of Herman yet glimmered in his ashes! Place me at the head of an army of men like myself, and out of Germany there shall arise a republic, in comparison with which Rome and Sparta shall seem like nunneries.-(Throws his sword on the table and starts up.)

SPIE. (springing up.) Bravo! bravissimo! You bring me just upon the right chapter. I will say something in your ear, Moor, that has long been in my mind; and you are the right man for it! -Drink, brother, drink.—What, if we become Jews again? Say, is it not a clever, bold plan? We send out a manifesto to the four ends of the world, and summon to Palestine all who eat no swine's flesh Then I prove, by valid documents, that Herod the Tetrarch was my great grandfather, and so on. That will be a victory, Charles, if we build up Jerusalem again. Then, quick with the Turks out of Asia, while the iron is hot; and hew cedars out of Lebanon, and build ships, and enclose the old race in its ancient boundaries. In the mean time

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MOOR. (takes his hand, laughing.) Comrade! it's at an end now with these fooleries.

SPIE. (puzzled.) Why, you would not quite play the lost son, would you? A fellow like you, who has made more marks on faces with your sword than three clerks have written in a leapyear! Shall I tell you about the great dog-burial?-Ha!--I must recall to you your own picture, that will make fire burn in your veins, if nothing else inspirits you. Do you remember how

the master of the college shot your dog's leg, and you, in revenge, proclaimed a fast in the whole town? They grumbled at your rescript. But you, not idle, bought up all the meat in L, so that in eight hours there was not a bone left to gnaw in the whole neighbourhood, and the price of fish began to rise. Magistrates and citizens vowed vengeance. We students rushed out, about seven hundred of us; and you at their head; and tailors, and pedlars, and tavern-keepers, and all kinds of trades, behind you; and swore to raise a storm against the town, if they should hurt a hair of a student's head. You assembled a whole council of doctors, and offered three ducats to him who would write a receipt for the dog. We feared they would have too much honour, and say, "No;" and we had agreed before to force them. But that was unnecessary; for in one hour twelve receipts were written; so that the beast soon died! MOOR. Shameful fellows!

SPIE. The funeral ceremony was arranged with all splendour : songs were sung over the dog; and about a thousand of us marched out in the night, a lantern in one hand, sword in the other; and so went through the town, with ringing of bells, tili the dog was buried. Then there was a feast, which lasted till the morning light. You thanked the master for his hearty condolence, and sold the meat at half-price. Mort de ma vie! Then we respected you, like the garrison of a rescued fortress.

MOOR. And are you not ashamed to talk big about this? SPIE. Go, go! You are no longer Moor. Do not you know, how a thousand times, flask in hand, you have called up the old miser, and said, he should only scrape and squeeze together, that you might moisten your throat with it? Don't you know?-don't you know?-Oh, you poor pitiful braggart! That was manly spoken and nobly, but—

cannot be-im

Say, is it not

MOOR. Curses on thee, for reminding me of it! curses on myself, for having said so! But it was only in the fumes of wine, and my heart heard not what my tongue uttered. SPIE. (shaking his head.) No! no! no! that possible. Brother, you cannot be in earnest. necessity that turns thee thus? Come, let me tell you a story of my boyish years. Then I had near my house a ditch, that was, at least, eight feet wide, where we boys used to contend who should jump over it. But that was in vain. Plump! you fell; and there was a hissing and laughter at you; and snow-balls were thrown at you over and over again. Next my house there lay a

hunter's dog, chained up; such a fierce beast, that it would snap at a girl's petticoats like lightning, if she ventured too near him. It was the joy of my soul to teaze this dog, when I could; and I would half die with laughter to see how he would have run after me if he had only been able.-What happened? Another time I was provoking him, and struck him with a stone so hard upon the rib, that he with fury broke the chain, and ran after me; and I fled away like all the tempests. There was just that cursed ditch between. What was to be done? The dog was hard at my heels, and raging; so I quickly resolved-the leap was taken-and over I am. I have to thank that spring for body and life. The beast would have torn me to bits.

MOOR. But to what end is this?

SPIE. To this that you may see that our power increases in our necessity. Therefore, I never faint, even when it comes to extremities. Courage grows with danger; strength increases in the contest. Fortune must have intended me for a great man, since she always strokes me backwards.

MOOR. (angrily.) I know not for what we should have had courage, and have not had it.

SPIE. So?-And you will let your gifts be wasted? Bury your talent? Think you that your pranks in Leipsic form the boundaries of human wit? Let us first go into the great world-Paris and London!—where one gets a box of the ear if he greets another as an honourable man. There is a jubilee of the soul, if you practise the profession in its greatness! You will gape! you will open your eyes! Wait; and you shall learn from Spiegelberg how we copy handwritings, turn the dice, break open locks, and turn out the contents of the coffers! The fellow shall be tied up to the next gallows who hungers with honest fingers.

MOOR. (absent.) How? Have you indeed brought it so far? SPIE. I believe you do not trust me. Wait; let me first get warm ;-you shall see a wonder. The fruit of my labouring wit shall turn your brain round in your skull.-(Rising, vehemently. )— How it brightens in me! Great thoughts glimmer in my soul! Gigantic plans ferment in my creative brain! Cursed lethargy!(striking his forehead)-that has hitherto enchained my powers; barred and fettered my projects! I awake! I feel who I amwhat I must become!

MOOR. You are a fool: the wine rules in your brain.

SPIE. (more vehemently.) "Spiegelberg," they will say;

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can

you conjure, Spiegelberg?"""Tis a shame that you are not a general, Spiegelberg," will the king say; 66 you would have driven the Austrians through a button-hole."-" Truly," I hear the doctors complain," it is unpardonable that the man did not study medicine; he would have discovered a new specific."-" Ah! and that he had not taken the treasury for his province," will the Sullys sigh in their cabinets; "he would have conjured louis-d'ors out of the stones."—And Spiegelberg will it be in the east, and in the west; and into the mud with you, you cowards, you toads, while Spiegelberg, with outstretched wings, soars to the temple of Fame ! MOOR. Fortune to thee on the way! Rise thou on the pillars of infamy to the summit of fame. A noble pleasure lures me into the shadow of my father's groves-into the arms of my Amelia. A week ago I wrote to my father for forgiveness. I have not concealed the least circumstance; and where sincerity is, there is also compassion and aid. Let us part, Moritz. We see each other to-day for the last time. The post is come in: my father's pardon is already within the walls of this town.

Enter SCHWEITZER, GRIMM, ROLLER, SCHUFTERLE, and RAZMAN.

ROL. Do you know that we are discovered?

GRIMM. That we are every moment in danger of being captured? MOOR. I do not wonder. It may go as it will. Have you seen Schwarz? And did he tell you of no letter that he had for me? ROL. He has been seeking you for a long time.

MOOR. Where is he? Where? where?-(Going hastily.) ROL. Stop! we have directed him here. You tremble— MOOR. I tremble not. Why should I tremble? Comrades! this letter-rejoice with me! I am the happiest man under the sun. Why should I tremble?

Enter SCHWARZ.

MOOR. (flies to meet him.) Brother! brother! The letter! the letter!

SCHWARZ. (gives him the letter, which he opens hastily.) What ails you? Why so pale?

MOOR. My brother's hand!

SCHWARZ. What's the matter with Spiegelberg?

GRIMM. The fellow is mad, He makes gestures as if he had the St. Vitus's dance.