Octavio (turning to Butler). Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted?
O God of Justice!
To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty
Of this foul deed.
Butler. Your hand is pure. You have 10
Availed yourself of mine.
Octavio. Merciless man!
Thus to abuse the orders of thy Lord—
And stain thy Emperor's holy name with murder,
With bloody, most accursed assassination!
Butler. I've but fulfilled the Emperor's own sentence. 15
Octavio. O curse of Kings,
Infusing a dread life into their words,
And linking to the sudden transient thought
The unchangeable irrevocable deed.
Was there necessity for such an eager 20
Despatch? Could'st thou not grant the merciful
[809] A time for mercy? Time is man's good Angel.
To leave no interval between the sentence,
And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem
God only, the immutable!
Butler. For what 25
Rail you against me? What is my offence?
The Empire from a fearful enemy
Have I delivered, and expect reward.
The single difference betwixt you and me
Is this: you placed the arrow in the bow; 30
I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet stand
Astonished that blood is come up. I always
Knew what I did, and therefore no result
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.
Have you aught else to order?—for this instant 35
I make my best speed to Vienna; place
My bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne,
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying
And punctual obedience may demand
From a just judge. [Exit Butler. 40

LINENOTES:

[10]

hand 1800, 1828, 1829.

Before 15: Butler (calmly). 1800, 1828, 1829.


Scene X

To these enter the Countess Tertsky, pale and disordered. Her utterance is slow and feeble, and unimpassioned.

Octavio (meeting her). O Countess Tertsky! These are the results
Of luckless unblest deeds.
Countess. They are the fruits
Of your contrivances. The Duke is dead,
My husband too is dead, the Duchess struggles
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared. 5
This house of splendour, and of princely glory,
Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servants
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last
Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver
The keys.
Octavio. O Countess! my house too is desolate. 10
Countess. Who next is to be murdered? Who is next
To be maltreated? Lo! The Duke is dead.
The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified!
Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity
[810] Be imputed to the faithful as a crime— 15
The evil destiny surprised my brother
Too suddenly; he could not think on them.
Octavio. Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment!
The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault
Hath heavily been expiated—nothing 20
Descended from the father to the daughter,
Except his glory and his services.
The Empress honours your adversity,
Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you
Her motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears! 25
Yield yourself up in hope and confidence
To the Imperial Grace!
Countess. To the grace and mercy of a greater Master
Do I yield up myself. Where shall the body
Of the Duke have its place of final rest? 30
In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found,
At Gitschin rests the Countess Wallenstein;
And by her side, to whom he was indebted
For his first fortunes, gratefully he wished
He might sometime repose in death! O let him 35
Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's
Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor
Is now proprietor of all our castles.
This sure may well be granted us—one sepulchre
Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers! 40
Octavio. Countess, you tremble, you turn pale!
Countess. You think
More worthily of me, than to believe
I would survive the downfall of my house.
We did not hold ourselves too mean to grasp
After a monarch's crown—the crown did fate 45
Deny, but not the feeling and the spirit
That to the crown belong! We deem a
Courageous death more worthy of our free station
Than a dishonoured life.—I have taken poison.
Octavio. Help! Help! Support her!
Countess. Nay, it is too late. 50
[811] In a few moments is my fate accomplished. [Exit Countess.
Gordon. O house of death and horrors!

[An officer enters, and brings a letter with the great seal.

Gordon (steps forward and meets him). What is this?
It is the Imperial Seal.

[He reads the Address, and delivers the letter to Octavio with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the word.

To the Prince Piccolomini.

[Octavio, with his whole frame expressive of sudden anguish, raises his eyes to heaven.

(The curtain drops.)


LINENOTES:

[10]

Octavio (with a deep anguish). O Countess! 1800, 1828, 1829.

[27]

Countess (with her eye raised to heaven). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[41]

Countess (reassembles all her powers, and speaks with energy and dignity). You think 1800, 1828, 1829.

[54]

Prince 1800, 1828, 1829.


The following mistranslations, which were noted in the Westminster Review, Art. 3, July 1850, are recorded in the Notes affixed to The Dramatic Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1852, pp. 426-7.

THE PICCOLOMINI.

Act I, Scene 2, line 106. 'Der Posten' is rendered 'travelling-bills' instead of an 'item' or 'article in an account'.

Act I, Scene 4, line 27. 'Geschmeidig' is rendered 'hammered out' instead of 'pliant'.

Act I, Scene 8, line 28. 'Das holde Kind' is rendered 'The voice of my child' instead of 'The charming child'.

Act I, Scene 9, line 13. 'Jagdzug' is rendered 'hunting dress' instead of 'hunting stud'.

Act II, Scene 7, line 9. 'Was denn?' is rendered 'What then?' instead of 'What?'

Act II, Scene 12, lines 94, 95. 'Ist unser Glaub' eine Kanzel und Altar' is rendered 'Our faith hangs upon the pulpit and altar' instead of 'is without pulpit and altar'.

Act II, Scene 12, line 104. 'Taboriten' is rendered 'minstrels' instead of 'a branch of the Hussites'. [Pointed out by Ferd. Freiligrath, Athenaeum, Aug. 31, 1861.]

Act IV, Scene 7, line 103. 'Losung' is rendered 'redemption' instead of 'watchword'.

THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN.

Act II, Scene 6, Note. 'Verstecktesten' is rendered 'most spotted' instead of 'most secret'.


REMORSE[812:1]


PREFACE

This Tragedy was written in the summer and autumn of the year 1797; at Nether Stowey, in the county of Somerset. By whose recommendation, and of the manner in which both the Play and the Author were treated by the Recommender, let me be permitted to relate: that I knew of its having been received only by a third person; that I could procure neither answer nor the manuscript; and that but for an accident I should have had no copy of the Work itself. That such treatment would damp a young man's exertions may be easily conceived: there was no need of after-misrepresentation and calumny, as an additional sedative.

[812:2][As an amusing anecdote, and in the wish to prepare future Authors, as young as I then was and as ignorant of the world, of[812:3] the treatment they may meet with, I will add, that the Person[812:4] who by a twice conveyed recommendation (in the year 1797) had urged me to write a Tragedy[812:5]: who on my own objection that I was utterly ignorant of all Stage-tactics had promised that he would himself make the necessary alterations, if the Piece should be at all representable; who together with the copy of the Play (hastened by his means so as to prevent the full developement[812:6] of the characters) received a letter from the Author to this purport, 'that conscious of his inexperience, he had cherished no expectations, and should therefore feel no disappointment from the rejection of the Play; but that if beyond his hopes Mr. —— found in it any capability of being adapted to the Stage, it was delivered to him as if it had been his own Manuscript, to add, omit, or alter, as he saw occasion; and that (if it were rejected) the Author would deem himself amply remunerated by the addition to his Experience, which he should receive, if Mr. —— would point out[812:7] to him the nature of its unfitness for public Representation';—that this very Person returned[813:1] me no answer, and[813:2], spite of repeated applications, retained my Manuscript when I was not conscious of any other Copy being in existence (my duplicate having been destroyed by an accident); that he[813:3] suffered this Manuscript to wander about the Town from his house, so that but ten days ago I saw[813:4] the song in the third Act printed and set to music, without my name, by Mr. Carnaby, in the year 1802; likewise that the same person asserted[813:5] (as I have been assured) that the Play was rejected, because I would not submit to the alteration of one ludicrous line; and finally[813:6] in the year 1806 amused and delighted (as who was ever in his company, if I may trust the universal report, without being amused and delighted?) a large company at the house of a highly respectable Member of Parliament, with the ridicule of the[813:7] Tragedy, as 'a fair specimen', of the whole of which he adduced a line:

'Drip! drip! drip! there's nothing here but dripping.'

In the original copy of the Play, in the first Scene of the fourth Act, Isidore had commenced his Soliloquy in the Cavern with the words:

'Drip! drip! a ceaseless sound of water-drops,'[813:8],[813:9]

as far as I can at present recollect: for on the possible ludicrous association being pointed out to me, I instantly and thankfully struck out the line. And as to my obstinate tenacity, not only my old acquaintance, but (I dare boldly aver) both the Managers of Drury Lane Theatre, and every Actor and Actress, whom I have recently met in the Green Room, will repel the accusation: perhaps not without surprise.]

I thought it right to record these circumstances;[814:1] but I turn gladly and with sincere gratitude to the converse. In the close of last year I was advised to present the Tragedy once more to the Theatre. Accordingly having altered the names, I ventured to address a letter to Mr. Whitbread, requesting information as to whom I was to present my Tragedy. My Letter was instantly and most kindly answered, and I have now nothing to tell but a Tale of Thanks. I should scarce know where to begin, if the goodness of the Manager, Mr. Arnold, had not called for my first acknowledgements. Not merely as an acting Play, but as a dramatic Poem, the 'Remorse' has been importantly and manifoldly benefited by his suggestions. I can with severest truth say, that every hint he gave me was the ground of some improvement. In the next place it is my duty to mention Mr. Raymond, the Stage Manager. Had the 'Remorse' been his own Play—nay, that is saying too little—had I been his brother, or his dearest friend, he could not have felt or exerted himself more zealously.

As the Piece is now acting, it may be thought presumptuous in me to speak of the Actors; yet how can I abstain, feeling, as I do, Mrs. Glover's[814:2] powerful assistance, and knowing the circumstances[814:3] under which she consented to act Alhadra? A time will come, when without painfully oppressing her feelings, I may speak of this more fully. To Miss Smith I have an equal, though different acknowledgement to make, namely, for her acceptance of a character not fully developed, and quite inadequate to her extraordinary powers. She enlivened and supported many passages, which (though not perhaps wholly uninteresting in the closet) would but for her have hung heavy on the ears of a Theatrical Audience. And in speaking the Epilogue, a composition which (I fear) my hurry will hardly excuse, and which, as unworthy of her name, is here [1828, 1829, 1834] omitted, she made a sacrifice, which only her established character with all judges of Tragic action, could have rendered compatible with her duty to herself. To Mr. De Camp's judgement and full conception of Isidore; to Mr. Pope's accurate representation of the partial, yet honourable Father; to Mr. Elliston's energy in the character of Alvar, and who in more than one instance gave it beauties and striking points, which not only delighted but surprised me; and to Mr. Rae[815:1], to whose zeal, and unwearied study of his part, I am not less indebted as a Man, than to his impassioned realization of Ordonio, as an Author;——to these, and to all concerned with the bringing out of the Play, I can address but one word—Thanks!—but that word is uttered sincerely! and to persons constantly before the eye of the Public, a public acknowledgement becomes appropriate, and a duty.

I defer all answers to the different criticisms on the Piece to an Essay, which I am about to publish immediately, on Dramatic Poetry, relatively to the present State of the Metropolitan Theatres.

From the necessity of hastening the Publication I was obliged to send the Manuscript intended for the Stage: which is the sole cause of the number of directions printed in italics.

S. T. Coleridge.


FOOTNOTES:

[812:1] Preface, Prologue, and Epilogue do not appear in the 1834 edition.

[812:2] The long passage here placed within square brackets [ ] appeared in the first edition only.

[812:3] of] for MS. R. (For MS. R see p. 819.)

[812:4] Richard Brinsley Sheridan.

[812:5] Tragedy for his theatre MS. R.

[812:6] I need not say to Authors, that as to the essentials of a Poem, little can be superinduced without dissonance, after the first warmth of conception and composition. [Note by S. T. C., first edition.]

[812:7] would condescend to point out MS. R.

[813:1] not only returned MS. R.

[813:2] and] not only MS. R.

[813:3] that he] not only MS. R.

[813:4] I for the first time saw MS. R.

[813:5] likewise . . . assured] not only asserted MS. R.

[813:6] but finally (and it is this last fact alone, which was malice for which no excuse of indolence self-made is adduced which determined me to refer to what I had already forgiven and almost forgotten) in the year 1806 MS. R.

[813:7] the] this MS. R.

[813:8] (Private.) Had the Piece been really silly (and I have proof positive that Sheridan did not think it so) yet 10 years afterwards to have committed a breach of confidence in order to injure the otherwise . . . that on the ground of an indiscretion into which he had himself seduced the writer, and the writer, too, a man whose reputation was his Bread—a man who had devoted the firstlings of his talents to the celebration of Sheridan's genius—and who after he met treatment not only never spoke unkindly or resentfully of it, but actually was zealous and frequent in defending and praising his public principles of conduct in the Morning Post—and all this in the presence of men of Rank previously disposed to think highly . . . I am sure you will not be surprised that this did provoke me, and that it justifies to my heart the detail here printed.

S. T. Coleridge.

P.S.—I never spoke severely of R. B. S. but once and then I confess, I did say that Sheridan was Sheridan. MS. R.

[813:9] The fourth act of the play in its original shape, and, presumably, as sent to Sheridan, opened with the following lines:—

'Drip! drip! drip! drip!—in such a place as this
It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip!
I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch.'

In MS. III the opening lines are erased and the fourth Act opens thus:—

This ceaseless dreary sound of
 
 
water-drops
dropping water
I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!

After the lapse of sixteen years Coleridge may have confused the corrected version with the original. There is no MS. authority for the line as quoted in the Preface.

[814:1] 'This circumstance.' Second edition.

[814:2] The caste was as follows:—Marquis Valdez, Mr. Pope; Don Alvar, Mr. Elliston; Don Ordonio, Mr. Rae; Monviedro, Mr. Powell; Zulimez, Mr. Crooke; Isidore, Mr. De Camp; Naomi, Mr. Wallack; Donna Teresa, Miss Smith; Alhadra, Mrs. Glover.

[814:3] Mrs. G.'s eldest child was buried on the Thursday—two others were ill, and one, with croup given over (tho' it has since recovered) and spite of her's, the physician's and my most passionate remonstrances, she was forced to act Alhadra on the Saturday!!!

Mrs. Glover (I do not much like her, in some respects) was duped into a marriage with a worthless Sharper, who passed himself off on her as a man of rank and fortune and who now lives and feeds himself and his vices on her salary—and hence all her affections flow in the channel of her maternal feelings. She is a passionately fond mother, and to act Alhadra on the Saturday after the Thursday's Burial! MS. H. (For MS. H see p. 819.)

[815:1] Poor Rae! a good man as Friend, Husband, Father. He did his best! but his person is so insignificant, tho' a handsome man off the stage—and, worse than that, the thinness and an insufficiency of his voice—yet Ordonio has done him service. MS. H.


PROLOGUE

BY C. LAMB[816:1]

Spoken by Mr. Carr

There are, I am told, who sharply criticise
Our modern theatres' unwieldy size.
We players shall scarce plead guilty to that charge,
Who think a house can never be too large:
Griev'd when a rant, that's worth a nation's ear, 5
Shakes some prescrib'd Lyceum's petty sphere;
And pleased to mark the grin from space to space
Spread epidemic o'er a town's broad face.—
O might old Betterton or Booth return
To view our structures from their silent urn, 10
Could Quin come stalking from Elysian glades,
Or Garrick get a day-rule from the shades—
Where now, perhaps, in mirth which Spirits approve,
He imitates the ways of men above,
And apes the actions of our upper coast, 15
As in his days of flesh he play'd the ghost:—
How might they bless our ampler scope to please,
And hate their own old shrunk up audiences.—
Their houses yet were palaces to those,
Which Ben and Fletcher for their triumphs chose, 20
Shakspeare, who wish'd a kingdom for a stage,
Like giant pent in disproportion'd cage,
Mourn'd his contracted strengths and crippled rage.
He who could tame his vast ambition down
To please some scatter'd gleanings of a town, 25
And, if some hundred auditors supplied
Their meagre meed of claps, was satisfied,
How had he felt, when that dread curse of Lear's
Had burst tremendous on a thousand ears,
While deep-struck wonder from applauding bands 30
Return'd the tribute of as many hands!
Rude were his guests; he never made his bow
To such an audience as salutes us now.
He lack'd the balm of labour, female praise.
Few Ladies in his time frequented plays, 35
[817] Or came to see a youth with awkward art
And shrill sharp pipe burlesque the woman's part.
The very use, since so essential grown,
Of painted scenes, was to his stage unknown.
The air-blest castle, round whose wholesome crest, 40
The martlet, guest of summer, chose her nest—
The forest walks of Arden's fair domain,
Where Jaques fed his solitary vein—
No pencil's aid as yet had dared supply,
Seen only by the intellectual eye. 45
Those scenic helps, denied to Shakspeare's page,
Our Author owes to a more liberal age.
Nor pomp nor circumstance are wanting here;
'Tis for himself alone that he must fear.
Yet shall remembrance cherish the just pride, 50
That (be the laurel granted or denied)
He first essay'd in this distinguished fane,
Severer muses and a tragic strain.

FOOTNOTES:

[816:1] A rejected address—which poor Charles was restless to have used. I fitted him with an Epilogue of the same calibre with his Prologue, but I thought it would be going a little too far to publish mine. MS. H.


EPILOGUE

Written by the Author, and spoken by Miss Smith in the character of Teresa.

[As printed in The Morning Chronicle, Jan. 28, 1813.]

Oh! the procrastinating idle rogue,
The Poet has just sent his Epilogue;
Ay, 'tis just like him!—and the hand!
[Poring over the manuscript.
The stick!
I could as soon decipher Arabic!
But, hark! my wizard's own poetic elf 5
Bids me take courage, and make one myself!
An heiress, and with sighing swains in plenty
From blooming nineteen to full-blown five-and-twenty,
Life beating high, and youth upon the wing,
'A six years' absence was a heavy thing!' 10
Heavy!—nay, let's describe things as they are,
With sense and nature 'twas at open war—
Mere affectation to be singular.
Yet ere you overflow in condemnation,
Think first of poor Teresa's education; 15
'Mid mountains wild, near billow-beaten rocks,
[818] Where sea-gales play'd with her dishevel'd locks,
Bred in the spot where first to light she sprung,
With no Academies for ladies young—
Academies—(sweet phrase!) that well may claim 20
From Plato's sacred grove th' appropriate name!
No morning visits, no sweet waltzing dances—
And then for reading—what but huge romances,
With as stiff morals, leaving earth behind 'em,
As the brass-clasp'd, brass-corner'd boards that bind 'em. 25
Knights, chaste as brave, who strange adventures seek,
And faithful loves of ladies, fair as meek;
Or saintly hermits' wonder-raising acts,
Instead of—novels founded upon facts!
Which, decently immoral, have the art 30
To spare the blush, and undersap the heart!
Oh, think of these, and hundreds worse than these,
Dire disimproving disadvantages,
And grounds for pity, not for blame, you'll see,
E'en in Teresa's six years' constancy. 35
[Looking at the manuscript.
But stop! what's this?—Our Poet bids me say,
That he has woo'd your feelings in this Play
By no too real woes, that make you groan,
Recalling kindred griefs, perhaps your own,
Yet with no image compensate the mind, 40
Nor leave one joy for memory behind.
He'd wish no loud laugh, from the sly, shrewd sneer,
To unsettle from your eyes the quiet tear
That Pity had brought, and Wisdom would leave there.
Now calm he waits your judgment! (win or miss), 45
By no loud plaudits saved, damn'd by no factious hiss.

[S. T. C.]


REMORSE[819:1]

A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS[819:2]


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

1797.   1813-1834.
Velez = Marquis Valdez, Father to the two brothers, and Doña Teresa's Guardian.
Albert = Don Alvar, the eldest son.
Osorio = Don Ordonio, the youngest son.
Francesco = Monviedro, a Dominican and Inquisitor.
Maurice = Zulimez, the faithful attendant on Alvar.
Ferdinand = Isidore, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a Christian.
Naomi = Naomi.
  Moors, Servants, &c.
Maria = Doña Teresa, an Orphan Heiress.
Alhadra, wife of Ferdinand = Alhadra, Wife of Isidore.
Familiars of the Inquisition.
Moors, Servants, &c.

Time. The reign of Philip II., just at the close of the civil wars against the Moors, and during the heat of the persecution which raged against them, shortly after the edict which forbade the wearing of Moresco apparel under pain of death.


FOOTNOTES: