Scene IV

[51]amends] amend1800,1828,1829.

amends] amend1800,1828,1829.

[87]were] was1800,1828,1829.

were] was1800,1828,1829.

Gordon, Butler(at first behind the scenes).

Butler (not yet come into view of the stage).Here stand in silence till I give the signal.Gordon (starts up).'Tis he, he has already brought the murderers.Butler.The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.Gordon.What shall I do, shall I attempt to save him?Shall I call up the house? Alarm the guards?5Butler (appears, but scarcely on the stage).A light gleams hither from the corridor.It leads directly to the Duke's bedchamber.

Butler (not yet come into view of the stage).Here stand in silence till I give the signal.

Gordon (starts up).'Tis he, he has already brought the murderers.

Butler.The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.

Gordon.What shall I do, shall I attempt to save him?Shall I call up the house? Alarm the guards?5

Butler (appears, but scarcely on the stage).A light gleams hither from the corridor.It leads directly to the Duke's bedchamber.

Gordon.But then I break my oath to the Emperor;If he escape and strengthen the enemy,Do I not hereby call down on my head10All the dread consequences?Butler (stepping forward).Hark! Who speaks there?Gordon.'Tis better, I resign it to the handsOf providence. For what am I, that IShould take upon myself so great a deed?I have not murdered him, if he be murdered:15But all his rescue were my act and deed;Mine—and whatever be the consequences,I must sustain them.Butler (advances).I should know that voice.Gordon.Butler!Butler.'Tis Gordon. What do you want here?Was it so late then, when the Duke dismissed you?20Gordon.Your hand bound up and in a scarf?Butler.'Tis wounded.That Illo fought as he was frantic, tillAt last we threw him on the ground.Gordon.Both dead?Butler.Is he in bed?Gordon.Ah, Butler!Butler.Is he? speak.Gordon.He shall not perish! Not through you! The Heaven25Refuses your arm. See—'tis wounded!—Butler.There is no need of my arm.Gordon.The most guiltyHave perished, and enough is given to justice.

Gordon.But then I break my oath to the Emperor;If he escape and strengthen the enemy,Do I not hereby call down on my head10All the dread consequences?

Butler (stepping forward).Hark! Who speaks there?

Gordon.'Tis better, I resign it to the handsOf providence. For what am I, that IShould take upon myself so great a deed?I have not murdered him, if he be murdered:15But all his rescue were my act and deed;Mine—and whatever be the consequences,I must sustain them.

Butler (advances).I should know that voice.

Gordon.Butler!

Butler.'Tis Gordon. What do you want here?Was it so late then, when the Duke dismissed you?20

Gordon.Your hand bound up and in a scarf?

Butler.'Tis wounded.That Illo fought as he was frantic, tillAt last we threw him on the ground.

Gordon.Both dead?

Butler.Is he in bed?

Gordon.Ah, Butler!

Butler.Is he? speak.

Gordon.He shall not perish! Not through you! The Heaven25Refuses your arm. See—'tis wounded!—

Butler.There is no need of my arm.

Gordon.The most guiltyHave perished, and enough is given to justice.

[TheGroom of the Chamberadvances from the gallery with his finger on his mouth, commanding silence.

Gordon.He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!Butler.No! he shall die awake.[Is going.Gordon.His heart still cleaves30To earthly things: he's not prepared to stepInto the presence of his God!Butler (going).God's merciful!Gordon (holds him).Grant him but this night's respite.Butler (hurrying off).The next moment[805]May ruin all.Gordon (holds him still).One hour!——Butler.Unhold me! WhatCan that short respite profit him?Gordon.O—Time35Works miracles. In one hour many thousandsOf grains of sand run out; and quick as they,Thought follows thought within the human soul.Only one hour! Your heart may change its purpose,His heart may change its purpose—some new tidings40May come; some fortunate event, decisive,May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O whatMay not one hour achieve!Butler.You but remind me,How precious every minute is!

Gordon.He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!

Butler.No! he shall die awake.[Is going.

Gordon.His heart still cleaves30To earthly things: he's not prepared to stepInto the presence of his God!

Butler (going).God's merciful!

Gordon (holds him).Grant him but this night's respite.

Butler (hurrying off).The next moment[805]May ruin all.

Gordon (holds him still).One hour!——

Butler.Unhold me! WhatCan that short respite profit him?

Gordon.O—Time35Works miracles. In one hour many thousandsOf grains of sand run out; and quick as they,Thought follows thought within the human soul.Only one hour! Your heart may change its purpose,His heart may change its purpose—some new tidings40May come; some fortunate event, decisive,May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O whatMay not one hour achieve!

Butler.You but remind me,How precious every minute is!

(He stamps on the floor.)

[13]thatI1800,1828,1829.

thatI1800,1828,1829.

[15]I1800,1828,1829.

I1800,1828,1829.

[16]my1800,1828,1829.

my1800,1828,1829.

[17]Mine1800,1828,1829.

Mine1800,1828,1829.

[19]you1800,1828,1829.

you1800,1828,1829.

[23]Gordon (shuddering).Both dead?1800,1828,1829.

Gordon (shuddering).Both dead?1800,1828,1829.

[25]not1800,1828,1829.

not1800,1828,1829.

[26]your1800,1828.

your1800,1828.

[27]my1800,1828,1829.

my1800,1828,1829.

[39]Your1800,1828,1829.

Your1800,1828,1829.

[40]His1800,1828,1829.

His1800,1828,1829.

To these enterMacdonaldandDevereux, with theHalberdiers.

Gordon (throwing himself between him and them).No, monster!First over my dead body thou shalt tread.I will not live to see the accursed deed!Butler (forcing him out of the way).Weak-hearted dotard!

Gordon (throwing himself between him and them).No, monster!First over my dead body thou shalt tread.I will not live to see the accursed deed!

Butler (forcing him out of the way).Weak-hearted dotard!

[Trumpets are heard in the distance.

Devereux and Macdonald.Hark! The Swedish trumpets!The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten!5Gordon (rushes out).O, God of Mercy!Butler (calling after him).Governor, to your post!Groom of the Chamber (hurries in).Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke sleeps.Devereux (with loud harsh voice).Friend, it is time now to make larum.Groom of the Chamber.Help!Murder!Butler.Down with him!Groom of the Chamber (run through the body by Devereux, falls at the entrance of the gallery).Jesus Maria!Butler.Burst the doors open!10

Devereux and Macdonald.Hark! The Swedish trumpets!The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten!5

Gordon (rushes out).O, God of Mercy!

Butler (calling after him).Governor, to your post!

Groom of the Chamber (hurries in).Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke sleeps.

Devereux (with loud harsh voice).Friend, it is time now to make larum.

Groom of the Chamber.Help!Murder!

Butler.Down with him!

Groom of the Chamber (run through the body by Devereux, falls at the entrance of the gallery).Jesus Maria!

Butler.Burst the doors open!10

[They rush over the body into the gallery—two doors are heard to crash one after the other—Voices deadened by the distance—Clash of arms—then all at once a profound silence.

Countess Tertsky (with a light).Her bed-chamber is empty; she herselfIs no where to be found! The Neubrunn too,Who watched by her, is missing. If she shouldBe flown—But whither flown? We must call upEvery soul in the house. How will the Duke5Bear up against these worst bad tidings? OIf that my husband now were but returnedHome from the banquet: Hark! I wonder whetherThe Duke is still awake! I thought I heardVoices and tread of feet here! I will go10And listen at the door. Hark! What is that?'Tis hastening up the steps!

Countess, Gordon.

Gordon (rushes in out of breath).'Tis a mistake,'Tis not the Swedes—Ye must proceed no further—Butler! O God! Where is he?[Then observing theCountess.Countess! Say——Countess.You are come then from the castle? Where's my husband?Gordon.Your husband!—Ask not!—To the Duke——5Countess.Not tillYou have discovered to me——Gordon.On this momentDoes the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke.While we are speaking——[Calling loudly.Butler! Butler! God!Countess.Why, he is at the castle with my husband.

Gordon (rushes in out of breath).'Tis a mistake,'Tis not the Swedes—Ye must proceed no further—Butler! O God! Where is he?[Then observing theCountess.Countess! Say——

Countess.You are come then from the castle? Where's my husband?

Gordon.Your husband!—Ask not!—To the Duke——5

Countess.Not tillYou have discovered to me——

Gordon.On this momentDoes the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke.While we are speaking——[Calling loudly.Butler! Butler! God!

Countess.Why, he is at the castle with my husband.

[Butlercomes from the gallery.

Gordon.'Twas a mistake—'Tis not the Swedes—it is10The Imperialist's Lieutenant-GeneralHas sent me hither, will be here himselfInstantly.—You must not proceed.Butler.He comes[807]Too late.[Gordondashes himself against the wall.Gordon.O God of mercy!Countess.What too late?Who will be here himself? Octavio15In Egra? Treason! Treason! Where's the Duke?[She rushes to the gallery.

Gordon.'Twas a mistake—'Tis not the Swedes—it is10The Imperialist's Lieutenant-GeneralHas sent me hither, will be here himselfInstantly.—You must not proceed.

Butler.He comes[807]Too late.[Gordondashes himself against the wall.

Gordon.O God of mercy!

Countess.What too late?Who will be here himself? Octavio15In Egra? Treason! Treason! Where's the Duke?[She rushes to the gallery.

Before5Gordon (in an agony of affright).1800,1828,1829.

Servantsrun across the stage full of terror. The whole Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses.

Seni (from the gallery).O bloody frightful deed!Countess.What is it, Seni?Page (from the gallery).O piteous sight!

Seni (from the gallery).O bloody frightful deed!

Countess.What is it, Seni?

Page (from the gallery).O piteous sight!

[OtherServantshasten in with torches.

Countess.What is it? For God's sake!Seni.And do you ask?Within the Duke lies murder'd—and your husbandAssassinated at the Castle.[TheCountessstands motionless.Female Servant (rushing across the stage).Help! Help! the Duchess!5Burgomaster (enters).What mean these confusedLoud cries, that wake the sleepers of this house?Gordon.Your house is cursed to all eternity.In your house doth the Duke lie murdered!Burgomaster (rushing out).Heaven forbid!First Servant.Fly! fly! they murder us all!Second Servant (carrying silver plate).That way! The lower10Passages are blocked up.Voice (from behind the Scene).Make room for the Lieutenant-General!

Countess.What is it? For God's sake!

Seni.And do you ask?Within the Duke lies murder'd—and your husbandAssassinated at the Castle.[TheCountessstands motionless.

Female Servant (rushing across the stage).Help! Help! the Duchess!5

Burgomaster (enters).What mean these confusedLoud cries, that wake the sleepers of this house?

Gordon.Your house is cursed to all eternity.In your house doth the Duke lie murdered!

Burgomaster (rushing out).Heaven forbid!

First Servant.Fly! fly! they murder us all!

Second Servant (carrying silver plate).That way! The lower10Passages are blocked up.

Voice (from behind the Scene).Make room for the Lieutenant-General!

[At these words theCountessstarts from her stupor, collects herself, and retires suddenly.

Voice (from behind the Scene).Keep back the people! Guard the door.

[3]you1800,1828,1829.

you1800,1828,1829.

To these entersOctavio Piccolominiwith all his train. At the same timeDevereuxandMacdonaldenter from out the Corridor with theHalberdiers.Wallenstein'sdead body is carried over the back part of the stage, wrapped in a piece of crimson tapestry.

Octavio (entering abruptly).It must not be! It is not possible!Butler! Gordon!I'll not believe it. Say no!

[Gordonwithout answering points with his hand to the body ofWallensteinas it is carried over the back of the stage.Octaviolooks that way, and stands overpowered with horror.

Devereux (to Butler).Here is the golden fleece—the Duke's sword—Macdonald.Is it your order—Butler (pointing to Octavio).Here stands he who now5Hath the sole power to issue orders.

Devereux (to Butler).Here is the golden fleece—the Duke's sword—

Macdonald.Is it your order—

Butler (pointing to Octavio).Here stands he who now5Hath the sole power to issue orders.

[DevereuxandMacdonaldretire with marks of obeisance. One drops away after the other, till onlyButler, Octavio, andGordonremain on the stage.

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 guiltyOf this foul deed.Butler.Your hand is pure. You have10Availed 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.15Octavio.O curse of Kings,Infusing a dread life into their words,And linking to the sudden transient thoughtThe unchangeable irrevocable deed.Was there necessity for such an eager20Despatch? 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 beseemGod only, the immutable!Butler.For what25Rail you against me? What is my offence?The Empire from a fearful enemyHave I delivered, and expect reward.The single difference betwixt you and meIs this: you placed the arrow in the bow;30I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet standAstonished that blood is come up. I alwaysKnew what I did, and therefore no resultHath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.Have you aught else to order?—for this instant35I make my best speed to Vienna; placeMy bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne,And hope to gain the applause which undelayingAnd punctual obedience may demandFrom a just judge.[ExitButler.40

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 guiltyOf this foul deed.

Butler.Your hand is pure. You have10Availed 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 thoughtThe unchangeable irrevocable deed.Was there necessity for such an eager20Despatch? 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 beseemGod only, the immutable!

Butler.For what25Rail you against me? What is my offence?The Empire from a fearful enemyHave I delivered, and expect reward.The single difference betwixt you and meIs this: you placed the arrow in the bow;30I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet standAstonished that blood is come up. I alwaysKnew what I did, and therefore no resultHath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.Have you aught else to order?—for this instant35I make my best speed to Vienna; placeMy bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne,And hope to gain the applause which undelayingAnd punctual obedience may demandFrom a just judge.[ExitButler.40

[10]hand1800,1828,1829.

hand1800,1828,1829.

Before15:Butler (calmly).1800,1828,1829.

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

Octavio (meeting her).O Countess Tertsky! These are the resultsOf luckless unblest deeds.Countess.They are the fruitsOf your contrivances. The Duke is dead,My husband too is dead, the Duchess strugglesIn the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared.5This house of splendour, and of princely glory,Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servantsRush forth through all its doors. I am the lastTherein; I shut it up, and here deliverThe keys.Octavio.O Countess! my house too is desolate.10Countess.Who next is to be murdered? Who is nextTo 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—15The evil destiny surprised my brotherToo suddenly; he could not think on them.Octavio.Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment!The Emperor is appeased; the heavy faultHath heavily been expiated—nothing20Descended from the father to the daughter,Except his glory and his services.The Empress honours your adversity,Takes part in your afflictions, opens to youHer motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears!25Yield yourself up in hope and confidenceTo the Imperial Grace!Countess.To the grace and mercy of a greater MasterDo I yield up myself. Where shall the bodyOf the Duke have its place of final rest?30In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found,At Gitschin rests the Countess Wallenstein;And by her side, to whom he was indebtedFor his first fortunes, gratefully he wishedHe might sometime repose in death! O let him35Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband'sRemains, I ask the like grace. The EmperorIs now proprietor of all our castles.This sure may well be granted us—one sepulchreBeside the sepulchres of our forefathers!40Octavio.Countess, you tremble, you turn pale!Countess.You thinkMore worthily of me, than to believeI would survive the downfall of my house.We did not hold ourselves too mean to graspAfter a monarch's crown—the crown did fate45Deny, but not the feeling and the spiritThat to the crown belong! We deem aCourageous death more worthy of our free stationThan 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.[ExitCountess.Gordon.O house of death and horrors!

Octavio (meeting her).O Countess Tertsky! These are the resultsOf luckless unblest deeds.

Countess.They are the fruitsOf your contrivances. The Duke is dead,My husband too is dead, the Duchess strugglesIn the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared.5This house of splendour, and of princely glory,Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servantsRush forth through all its doors. I am the lastTherein; I shut it up, and here deliverThe keys.

Octavio.O Countess! my house too is desolate.10

Countess.Who next is to be murdered? Who is nextTo 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—15The evil destiny surprised my brotherToo suddenly; he could not think on them.

Octavio.Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment!The Emperor is appeased; the heavy faultHath heavily been expiated—nothing20Descended from the father to the daughter,Except his glory and his services.The Empress honours your adversity,Takes part in your afflictions, opens to youHer motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears!25Yield yourself up in hope and confidenceTo the Imperial Grace!

Countess.To the grace and mercy of a greater MasterDo I yield up myself. Where shall the bodyOf the Duke have its place of final rest?30In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found,At Gitschin rests the Countess Wallenstein;And by her side, to whom he was indebtedFor his first fortunes, gratefully he wishedHe might sometime repose in death! O let him35Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband'sRemains, I ask the like grace. The EmperorIs now proprietor of all our castles.This sure may well be granted us—one sepulchreBeside the sepulchres of our forefathers!40

Octavio.Countess, you tremble, you turn pale!

Countess.You thinkMore worthily of me, than to believeI would survive the downfall of my house.We did not hold ourselves too mean to graspAfter a monarch's crown—the crown did fate45Deny, but not the feeling and the spiritThat to the crown belong! We deem aCourageous death more worthy of our free stationThan 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.[ExitCountess.

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 toOctaviowith 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.)

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

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

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

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

[41]Countess (reassembles all her powers, and speaks with energy and dignity).You think1800,1828,1829.

Countess (reassembles all her powers, and speaks with energy and dignity).You think1800,1828,1829.

[54]Prince1800,1828,1829.

Prince1800,1828,1829.

The following mistranslations, which were noted in theWestminster Review, Art. 3, July 1850, are recorded in the Notes affixed toThe Dramatic Worksof 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'.

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 thathewould 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 publicRepresentation';—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 Actprintedand 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 'afair specimen', of thewholeof 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, Isidorehadcommenced 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 obstinatetenacity, 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 anacting Play, but as a dramaticPoem, 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 MissSmithI 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'sjudgement and full conception of Isidore; to Mr.Pope'saccurate representation of the partial, yet honourable Father; to Mr.Elliston'senergy in the character ofAlvar, and who in more than one instancegaveit 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 aMan, than to his impassioned realization ofOrdonio, as anAuthor;——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.

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