The Robbers | Page 4

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. I, at least, can imagine nothing beyond what he
has already accomplished; but possibly his genius may soar above my
conceptions. After having contracted debts to the amount of forty
thousand ducats, "--a good round sum for pocket-money, father" and
having dishonored the daughter of a rich banker, whose affianced lover,
a gallant youth of rank, he mortally wounded in a duel, he yesterday, in
the dead of night, took the desperate resolution of absconding from the
arm of justice, with seven companions whom he had corrupted to his
own vicious courses." Father? for heaven's sake, father! How do you
feel?
OLD M. Enough. No more, my son, no more!
FRANCIS. I will spare your feelings. "The injured cry aloud for
satisfaction. Warrants have been issued for his apprehension--a price is
set on his head--the name of Moor"--No, these unhappy lips shall not

be guilty of a father's murder (he tears the letter). Believe it not, my
father, believe not a syllable.
OLD M. (weeps bitterly). My name--my unsullied name!
FRANCIS (throws himself on his neck). Infamous! most infamous
Charles! Oh, had I not my forebodings, when, even as a boy, he would
scamper after the girls, and ramble about over hill and common with
ragamuffin boys and all the vilest rabble; when he shunned the very
sight of a church as a malefactor shuns a gaol, and would throw the
pence he had wrung from your bounty into the hat of the