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"The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al, Translated by Benjamin Thompson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Stranger A Drama, in Five Acts Author: August von Kotzebue Release Date: December 29, 2006 [eBook #20217] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGER*** E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team Transcriber’s note: Typographical errors from the original 1806 edition have been preserved. -1- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al [Pg 1] -2- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al THE STRANGER; A DRAMA, IN FIVE ACTS; AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF KOTZEBUE. By BENJAMIN THOMPSON, Esq. PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD. LONDON: [Pg 2] PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW. [Pg 3] SAVAGE AND EASINGWOOD, PRINTERS, LONDON. REMARKS. There seems to be required by a number of well meaning persons of the present day a degree of moral perfection in a play, which few literary works attain; and in which sermons, and other holy productions, are at times deficient, though written with the purest intention. To criticise any book, besides the present drama, was certainly not a premeditated design in writing this little essay; but in support of the position—that every literary work, however guided by truth, may occasionally swerve into error, it may here be stated that the meek spirit of christianity can seldom be traced in any of those pious writings where our ancient religion, the church of Rome, and its clergy, are the subjects: and that political writers, in the time of war, laudably impelled, will slander public enemies into brutes, that the nation may hate them without offence to brotherly love. Articles of sacred faith are often so piously, yet so ignorantly expounded in what are termed systems of education and instruction—that [Pg 4]doubts are created, where all was before secure, and infidelity sown, where it was meant to be extirpated. -3- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al In this general failure of human perfection, the German author of this play has compassionated—and with a high, a sublime, example before him—an adultress. But Kotzebue’s pity, vitiated by his imperfect nature, has, it is said, deviated into vice; by restoring this woman to her former rank in life, under the roof of her injured husband. To reconcile to the virtuous spectator this indecorum, most calamitous woes are first depicted as the consequence of illicit love. The deserted husband and the guilty wife are both presented to the audience as voluntary exiles from society: the one through poignant sense of sorrow for the connubial happiness he has lost—the other, from deep contrition for the guilt she has incurred. The language, as well as the plot and incidents, of this play, describe, with effect, those multiplied miseries which the dishonour of a wife spreads around; but draws more especially upon herself, her husband, and her children. Kemble’s emaciated frame, sunken eye, drooping head, and death-like paleness; his heart-piercing lamentation, that—"he trusted a friend who repaid his hospitality, by alluring from him all that his soul held dear,"—are potent warnings to the modern husband. Mrs. Siddons, in Mrs. Haller (the just martyr to her own crimes) speaks in her turn to every married woman; and, in pathetic bursts of grief—in [Pg 5]looks of overwhelming shame—in words of deep reproach against herself and her seducer—"conjures each wife to revere the marriage bond." Notwithstanding all these distressful and repentant testimonies, preparatory to the reunion of this husband and wife, a delicate spectator feels a certain shudder when the catastrophe takes place,—but there is another spectator more delicate still, who never conceives, that from an agonizing, though an affectionate embrace, (the only proof of reconciliation given, for the play ends here), any farther endearments will ensue, than those of participated sadness, mutual care of their joint offspring, and to smooth each other’s passage to the grave. But should the worst suspicion of the scrupulous critic be true, and this man should actually have taken his wife "for better or for worse," as on the bridal day—can this be holding out temptation, as alleged, for women to be false to their husbands? Sure it would rather act as a preservative. What woman of common understanding and common cowardice, would dare to dishonour and forsake her husband, if she foresaw she was ever likely to live with him again?[Pg 6] DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. -4- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al The Stranger Count Wintersen Baron Steinfort Mr. Solomon Peter Tobias Francis George Count’s Son (five years old) Stranger’s Son (five years old) Mr. Kemble. Mr. Barrymore. Mr. Palmer. Mr. Wewitzer. Mr. Suett. Mr. Aickin. Mr. R. Palmer. Mr. Webb. Master Wells. Master Stokeley. Mrs. Haller Countess Wintersen Charlotte Annette Claudine Susan Stranger’s Daughter (four years old) Mrs. Siddons. Mrs. Goodall. Miss Stuart. Mrs. Bland. Miss Leake. Mrs. Jones. Miss Beton. Tenants, Servants, Dancers, &c. SCENE,—Germany. [Pg 7] THE STRANGER. ACT THE FIRST. -5- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al SCENE I. The Skirts of Count Wintersen’s Park.—The Park Gates in the centre.—On one side a low Lodge, among the Trees.—On the other, in the back ground, a Peasant’s Hut. Enter Peter. Pet. Pooh! pooh!—never tell me.—I’m a clever lad, for all father’s crying out every minute, "Peter," and "stupid Peter!" But I say, Peter is not stupid, though father will always be so wise. First, I talk too much; then I talk too little; and if I talk a bit to myself, he calls me a driveller. Now, I like best to talk to myself; for I never contradict myself, and I don’t laugh at myself, as other folks do. That laughing is often a plaguy teazing custom. To be sure, when Mrs. Haller laughs, one can bear it well enough; there is a sweetness even in her reproof, that somehow—But, lud! I had near forgot what I was sent about.—Yes, then they would have laughed at me indeed.—[Draws a green purse from his pocket.][Pg 8]—I am to carry this money to old Tobias; and Mrs. Haller said I must be sure not to blab, or say that she had sent it. Well, well, she may be easy for that matter; not a word shall drop from my lips. Mrs. Haller is charming, but silly, if father is right; for father says, "He, that spends his money is not wise," but "he that gives it away, is stark mad." Enter the Stranger, from the Lodge, followed by Francis.—At sight of Peter, the Stranger stops, and looks suspiciously at him. Peter stands opposite to him, with his mouth wide open. At length he takes off his hat, scrapes a bow, and goes into the Hut. Stra. Who is that? Fra. The steward’s son. Stra. Of the Castle? Fra. Yes. Stra. [After a pause.] You were—you were speaking last night— Fra. Of the old countryman? Stra. Ay. Fra. You would not hear me out. Stra. Proceed. Fra. He is poor. Stra. Who told you so? Fra. Himself. Stra. [With acrimony.] Ay, ay; he knows how to tell his story, no doubt. -6- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Fra. And to impose, you think? Stra. Right! Fra. This man does not. Stra. Fool! Fra. A feeling fool is better than a cold sceptic. Stra. False! Fra. Charity begets gratitude. Stra. False! Fra. And blesses the giver more than the receiver.[Pg 9] Stra. True. Fra. Well, sir. This countryman— Stra. Has he complained to you? Fra. Yes. Stra. He, who is really unhappy, never complains. [Pauses.] Francis, you have had means of education beyond your lot in life, and hence you are encouraged to attempt imposing on me:—but go on. Fra. His only son has been taken from him. Stra. Taken from him? Fra. By the exigency of the times, for a soldier. Stra. Ay! Fra. The old man is poor.— Stra. ’Tis likely. Fra. Sick and forsaken. Stra. I cannot help him. Fra. Yes. Stra. How? -7- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Fra. By money. He may buy his son’s release. Stra. I’ll see him myself. Fra. Do so. Stra. But if he is an impostor! Fra. He is not. Stra. In that hut? Fra. In that hut. [Stranger goes into the Hut.] A good master, though one almost loses the use of speech by living with him. A man kind and clear—though I cannot understand him. He rails against the whole world, and yet no beggar leaves his door unsatisfied. I have now lived three years with him, and yet I know not who he is. A hater of society, no doubt; but not by Providence intended to be so. Misanthropy in his head, not in his heart. Enter the Stranger and Peter, from the Hut. Pet. Pray walk on. Stra. [To Francis.] Fool! Fra. So soon returned![Pg 10] Stra. What should I do there? Fra. Did you not find it as I said? Stra. This lad I found. Fra. What has he to do with your charity? Stra. The old man and he understand each other perfectly well. Fra. How? Stra. What were this boy and the countryman doing? Fra. [Smiling, and shaking his head.] Well, you shall hear. [To Peter.] Young man, what were you doing in that hut? Pet. Doing!—Nothing. Fra. Well, but you couldn’t go there for nothing? Pet. And why not, pray?—But I did go there for nothing, though.—Do you think one must be paid for every thing?—If Mrs. Haller were to give me but a smiling look, I’d jump up to my neck in the great pond for nothing. -8- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Fra. It seems then Mrs. Haller sent you? Pet. Why, yes—But I’m not to talk about it. Fra. Why so? Pet. How should I know? "Look you," says Mrs. Haller, "Master Peter, be so good as not to mention it to any body." [With much consequence.] "Master Peter, be so good"—Hi! hi! hi!—"Master Peter, be so"—Hi! hi! hi!— Fra. Oh! that is quite a different thing. Of course you must be silent then. Pet. I know that; and so I am too. For I told old Tobias—says I, "Now, you’re not to think as how Mrs. Haller sent the money; for I shall not say a word about that as long as I live," says I. Fra. There you were very right. Did you carry him much money? Pet. I don’t know; I didn’t count it. It was in[Pg 11] a bit of a green purse. Mayhap it may be some little matter that she has scraped together in the last fortnight. Fra. And why just in the last fortnight? Pet. Because, about a fortnight since, I carried him some money before. Fra. From Mrs. Haller? Pet. Ay, sure; who else, think you? Father’s not such a fool. He says it is our bounden duty, as christians, to take care of our money, and not give any thing away, especially in summer; for then, says he, there’s herbs and roots enough in conscience to satisfy all the reasonable hungry poor. But I say father’s wrong, and Mrs. Haller’s right. Fra. Yes, yes.—But this Mrs. Haller seems a strange woman, Peter. Pet. Ay, at times she is plaguy odd. Why, she’ll sit, and cry you a whole day through, without any one’s knowing why.—Ay, and yet, somehow or other, whenever she cries, I always cry too—without knowing why. Fra. [To the Stranger.] Are you satisfied? Stra. Rid me of that babbler. Fra. Good day, Master Peter. Pet. You’re not going yet, are you? Fra. Mrs. Haller will be waiting for an answer. Pet. So she will. And I have another place or two to call at. [Takes off his hat to Stranger.] Servant, sir! -9- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Stra. Pshaw!— Pet. Pshaw! What—he’s angry. [Peter turns to Francis, in a half whisper.] He’s angry, I suppose, because he can get nothing out of me. Fra. It almost seems so. Pet. Ay, I’d have him to know I’m no blab. [Exit. Fra. Now, sir?[Pg 12] Stra. What do you want? Fra. Were you not wrong, sir? Stra. Hem! wrong! Fra. Can you still doubt? Stra. I’ll hear no more! Who is this Mrs. Haller? Why do I always follow her path? Go where I will, whenever I try to do good, she has always been before me. Fra. You should rejoice at that. Stra. Rejoice! Fra. Surely! That there are other good and charitable people in the world beside yourself. Stra. Oh, yes! Fra. Why not seek to be acquainted with her? I saw her yesterday in the garden up at the Castle. Mr. Solomon, the steward, says she has been unwell, and confined to her room almost ever since we have been here. But one would not think it, to look at her; for a more beautiful creature I never saw. Stra. So much the worse. Beauty is a mask. Fra. In her it seems a mirror of the soul. Her charities— Stra. Talk not to me of her charities. All women wish to be conspicuous:—in town by their wit; in the country by their heart. Fra. ’Tis immaterial in what way good is done. Stra. No; ’tis not immaterial. Fra. To this poor old man at least. - 10 - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Stra. He needs no assistance of mine. Fra. His most urgent wants indeed, Mrs. Haller has relieved; but whether she has or could have given as much as would purchase liberty for the son, the prop of his age— Stra. Silence! I will not give him a doit! [In a peevish tone.] You interest yourself very warmly in his behalf. Perhaps you are to be a sharer in the gift.[Pg 13] Fra. Sir, sir, that did not come from your heart. Stra. [Recollecting himself.] Forgive me! Fra. Poor master! How must the world have used you, before it could have instilled this hatred of mankind, this constant doubt of honesty and virtue! Stra. Leave me to myself! [Throws himself on a seat; takes from his pocket "Zimmerman on Solitude," and reads. Fra. [Aside, surveying him.] Again reading! Thus it is from morn to night. To him nature has no beauty; life, no charm. For three years I have never seen him smile. What will be his fate at last? Nothing diverts him. Oh, if he would but attach himself to any living thing! Were it an animal—for something man must love. Enter Tobias, from the Hut. Tob. Oh! how refreshing, after seven long weeks, to feel these warm sun beams once again! Thanks! thanks! bounteous Heaven, for the joy I taste. [Presses his cap between his hands, looks up and prays.—The Stranger observes him attentively. Fra. [To the Stranger.] This old man’s share of earthly happiness can be but little; yet mark how grateful he is for his portion of it. Stra. Because, though old, he is but a child in the leading strings of Hope. Fra. Hope is the nurse of life. Stra. And her cradle is the grave. [Tobias replaces his cap. Fra. I wish you joy. I am glad to see you are so much recovered. Tob. Thank you. Heaven, and the assistance of a kind lady, have saved me for another year or two. Fra. How old are you, pray?[Pg 14] - 11 - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Tob. Seventy-six. To be sure I can expect but little joy before I die. Yet, there is another, and a better world. Fra. To the unfortunate, then, death is scarce an evil? Tob. Am I so unfortunate? Do I not enjoy this glorious morning? Am I not in health again! Believe me, sir, he, who, leaving the bed of sickness, for the first time breathes the fresh pure air, is, at that moment, the happiest of his Maker’s creatures. Fra. Yet ’tis a happiness that fails upon enjoyment. Tob. True; but less so in old age. Some fifty years ago my father left me this cottage. I was a strong lad; and took an honest wife. Heaven blessed my farm with rich crops, and my marriage with five children. This lasted nine or ten years. Two of my children died. I felt it sorely. The land was afflicted with a famine. My wife assisted me in supporting our family: but four years after, she left our dwelling for a better place. And of my five children only one son remained. This was blow upon blow. It was long before I regained my fortitude. At length resignation and religion had their effect. I again attached myself to life. My son grew, and helped me in my work. Now the state has called him away to bear a musket. This is to me a loss indeed. I can work no more. I am old and weak; and true it is, but for Mrs. Haller, I must have perished. Fra. Still then life has its charms for you? Tob. Why not, while the world holds any thing that’s dear to me? Have not I a son? Fra. Who knows, that you will ever see him more? He may be dead. Tob. Alas! he may. But as long as I am not sure of it, he lives to me: And if he falls, ’tis in his coun[Pg 15]try’s cause. Nay, should I lose him, still I should not wish to die. Here is the hut in which I was born. Here is the tree that grew with me; and, I am almost ashamed to confess it—I have a dog, I love. Fra. A dog! Tob. Yes!—Smile if you please: but hear me. My benefactress once came to my hut herself, some time before you fixed here. The poor animal, unused to see the form of elegance and beauty enter the door of penury, growled at her.—"I wonder you keep that surly, ugly animal, Mr. Tobias," said she; "you, who have hardly food enough for yourself."—"Ah, madam," I replied, "if I part with him, are you sure that any thing else will love me?"—She was pleased with my answer. Fra. [To Stranger.] Excuse me, sir; but I wish you had listened. Stra. I have listened. Fra. Then, sir, I wish you would follow this poor old man’s example. Stra. [Pauses.] Here; take this book, and lay it on my desk. [Francis goes into the Lodge with the book.] How much has this Mrs. Haller given you? - 12 - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Tob. Oh, sir, she has given me so much, that I can look towards winter without fear. Stra. No more? Tob. What could I do with more?—Ah! true; I might— Stra. I know it.—You might buy your son’s release.—There! [Presses a purse into his hand, and exit. Tob. What is all this? [Opens the purse, and finds it full of gold.] Merciful Heaven!— Enter Francis. —Now look, sir: is confidence in Heaven unrewarded? Fra. I wish you joy! My master gave you this! Tob. Yes, your noble master. Heaven reward him![Pg 16] Fra. Just like him. He sent me with his book, that no one might be witness to his bounty. Tob. He would not even take my thanks. He was gone before I could speak. Fra. Just his way. Tob. Now, I’ll go as quick as these old legs will bear me. What a delightful errand! I go to release my Robert! How the lad will rejoice! There is a girl too, in the village, that will rejoice with him. O Providence, how good art thou! Years of distress never can efface the recollection of former happiness; but one joyful moment drives from the memory an age of misery. [Exit. Fra. [Looks after him.] Why am I not wealthy? ’Sdeath! why am I not a prince! I never thought myself envious; but I feel I am. Yes, I must envy those who, with the will, have the power to do good. [Exit. SCENE II. An Antichamber in Wintersen Castle. Enter Susan, meeting Footmen with table and chairs. Susan. Why, George! Harry! where have you been loitering? Put down these things. Mrs. Haller has been calling for you this half hour. Geo. Well, here I am then. What does she want with me? - 13 - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stranger, by August von Kotzebue, et al Susan. That she will tell you herself. Here she comes. Enter Mrs. Haller, (with a letter, a Maid following. Mr..."

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