« ÖncekiDevam »
in his delirium, he unceasingly de- The conversation is now interrupto mands her. In consequence of this ed by the increasing storm, and by misfortune, he had also lost an only the closing in of night. Dorothea son, whom his wife's paramour had draws and fixes a cord, which lifts adopted and reared as his own child. the cover of the lamps, and Caspar
Dorothea, however, is already in retires to light them. The daughter love with Walter, a young man, whose then being left alone, sings two stanreal history is yet unknown to Caspar, zas of a kind of allegorical love song, but who had been shipwrecked some accompanied by the harp; and in the time before on the shore of the“ Light- third scene, Ulrick, the madman, Tower,” had been rescued by its in- strangely dressed, makes his first aphabitants, and still remains in its pearance. neighbourhood.
Ulr. Sing not,—the harp is mine.- Wherefore did'st thou
Go not to-night,
Ulr. Girl, know'st thou not that I, through many a year,
That on his quick wings, he from shore to shore
Poor uncle !
(Takes the Harp.)
We should require no farther proof only by a short and careless sketch; that v. Houvald is a poet, than his Lord Byron, would in former days conception, (however inadequately de- have made a whole volume out of the veloped) of this character. The no- same materiel. tion of the madman keeping watch Caspar, meanwhile, has kindled the during every storm, that he may re- lamps, whose light is visible through cover the lost object of his affections the beams of the roof. In the fourth from the sea, and sending forth the scene, he reappears with a light in his wild music of his harp to the winds of hand, and speaks thus to the madnight, is an idea which none but a German could have afforded to treat
Casp. Hast thou been woke then? Truly, I believed,
In the grave I cannot sleep
Could hardly light the lamps.Ulrick now tries to untie the cord, by which the lamps are visibly affected in the tower above.
Casp. (withholding him). What would'st thou do? Draw not the
cord, or else
When the storm
Casp. Ulrick, hast thou forgot then, that the lamps
Has Love, too,
Poor Ulrick !-Ha!
(Distant firing heard.)
Ulr. Nay, 'twas the tempest's call. Now light me up
Then lead him thither.
Ulr. (in going out.) Hear'st thou, brother
I pray thee, darken out the lamps. Dorothea accordingly takes a light to guide him up stairs, and Ulrick follows with the harp.
Casp. (alone). Was it but the re-echoing of the thunder,
Now then, in all haste,
Dor. Fear not, I shall be watchful.
Casp. Mark you,-
Dor. Nay, father, trust to me.
He goes out with the lantern, &c. leaving Dorothea alone, who soliloquizes through some verses, during which are heard the roaring of the storm, and dashing of the sea; by fits too, the wild music and song of Ulrick, on which
Hark! 'mid the conflict wild
Arise to say that love for thee yet watches ? While Dorothea remains thus alone, Walter enters, whereupon commences that scene on which the fatal events of the evening chiefly depend. For the first time, he makes known to her some consistent anecdotes of his own life; but these, however shadowy, are enough to suggest conjectures who he really is, which are soon afterwards fully confirmed
Dor. How,-he was not thy father?
Wal. Yet, those rights
Dor. Listen ! even while we speak,
Wal. No! 'twas the crashing sound
Dor. Nay, trust me,-unto you
(Music from the harp, and voice of Ulrick on the tower.)
Dor. From the roof they come. Mine uncle there,
Wal. Oh, ye sweet tones ! amid the tempest's rage,
Dor. Have you then
Wal. No! yet blame not
He then goes on to describe in a wild be beheld, and of course she appearel visionary style, how, during his voy- as a inessenger from heaven, sent for age, strange love-dreams had haunted his deliverance. Meanwhile, Ulrick, and possessed him, of which the influ. when they are thus occupied, steps in ence continued, until they were more and pulls the cord, by which the lamps than realized by his meeting with Do- are immediately extinguished. The rothea. He recalls, too, the story of melo-dramatic effect of this scene is his shipwreck, his rescue by Caspar more easily conceived than described. in the life-boat, his astonishment on He remains afterwards serious, and perceiving that Dorothea, like some erhaben,” (i. e. in a lofty mood,) goddess of the sea, accompanied her leaning behind him on his harp; at father on that perilous adventure. Hers length, on a speech of Walter, concluindeed was the first countenance that ding thus
As the stars' bright radiance
Ulr. Even already are your lights
Dor. Ha! who calls ?
Ulr. All lights are darken’d now,—as in the heart,
Dor. Oh Heaven, 'tis true !
And I alone am guilty ! Caspar's voice, through the trumpet, is then heard from below-she runs to him-Walter follows. Ulric remains, and after a pause, during which he looks to heaven, says
Ulr. Thou hast thy stars all clouded in the sky;
Find guidance now-IT SHALL BE NIGHT! He remains with stretched-out arms in a commanding posture, and the dropscene falls. Thus ends the first act.
The second opens at the dawn of day. The scene is a wild rocky shore, on which Ulrick first appears alone with his harp,-Caspar and Dorothea enter, the former blaming his daughter for her negligence ; but Ulrick vehemently defends her.
Dor. Oh, father, have compassion !
Child, thy guilt
To this scene succeeds the adven- Count Holm, who is gradually recogturous rescue of Count Holm from nized by Caspar, as the now repentant the now wrecked vessel, by Walter, and miserable seducer of his sister-inin whom the Count discovers his adop- law, who has just now perished in the tive son. The scene is of course ef- wreck of the vessel. The Count's nar. fective; but we must now pass over rative of his own crimes, his various with a few words no less than forty- adventures, and his bitter remorse, are eight pages, containing the most skil- followed by Caspar's disclosure to him ful adaptation of a narrative to the of Ulrick's incurable insanity, who is, stage, that we remember to have met of course, now recognized as the real with. Such long stories form generally father of Walter, and husband of the a rock on which dramatic writers are lost Matilda. After this dialogue, the apt to split; but here the interest of Count is left alone among the wild the auditors increases with every line. rocks of the sea-shore. These pages involve the history of
Count. Oh Heaven, have I been led into this place
Will pray with better hopes ! He then mounts upon the cliff and disappears. The scene changes, and shews an open view towards the sea; on one side rocks; Matilda's body lies on the shore ; Ulrick kneels beside her ; his harp leans on the rock. After a pause, he rises slowly up.
Ulr. Hush, hush!