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.)