"To the heart which love inhabits, fear is a stranger and vice a cast-off menial."
— Render, William (fl. 1790-1801); August Friedrich Ferdinand von Kotzebue (1761-1819)
Place of Publication
Cambridge
Publisher
Printed for the authour, and sold by J. Deighbon, and J. Nicholson; also by W. H. Lunn
Date
1798
Metaphor
"To the heart which love inhabits, fear is a stranger and vice a cast-off menial."
Metaphor in Context
BENYOWSKY
At length day breaks! At length the sun vouchsafes a glance upon Kamtschaka, but scanty as the pittance thrown to a beggar, which barely suffices to lengthen out his hunger.--Where are ye, many coloured bubbles of my youth?--I am deserted--alone!--No voice to whisper over my sick bed: "Hush! hush! he sleeps:" --No tears over my grave will e'er proclaim "alas, he is dead!" No one hates, no one loves me--and do I still live!--Have they left thee knife, spear, sword, and pistol, and dost thou still live?--Up, break thy fetters! Burst thy prison! My soul is free! My essence knows no chains.--Ah! there hope appears, lovely daughter of captivity,--the delight of every captive. The dagger drops from my hand, and I recline upon her bosom.--
[A pause]
Fool in leading-strings! Hope is a mere doll, which grown up children play with, even to their grave, lest they weep over their misery.--Away with thee! I am not thy dupe, I am a man!--Where is the power that rules my spirit? Who is Lord of my life, but my God--and myself!--
[He observes a knife lying on the table. Fixes his eyes upon it with an earnest and horrible aspect. On a sudden he stretches out his hand and grasps it. Raises his hand irresolutely to stab himself. Looks at the knife, and then up to Heaven alternately. His hand descends gradually upon his knee. As he throws his other arm on the back of the chair and rests his head upon it, a miniature set in diamonds drops from his hair. He starts from the seat in agitation, snatches the miniature up and contemplates it stedfastly. By degrees, sorrow glistens in his eyes, and he cries out]
--My Emilia, my wife!
[He throws the knife far away from him]
Thee, I have rescued! Thee, rapacity has not torn from me. I have preserved thee in my hair--and in my heart--Emilia! The globe lies between us, but God and love know neither space nor time! For thy sake will I live! Live and labour, struggle and dare! This picture be my shield, my talisman, the charm that shall protect me. To the heart which love inhabits, fear is a stranger and vice a cast-off menial. Return, gentle hope, and associate with thy sister love. Separate no more lovely pair! My wife, my Emilia loves me, equally whether an apartment or a quarter of the globe divide us. At this same morning hour she is praying for my deliverance, while an infant in her arms lisps out it's father's name. Live, Benyowsky, live! Thy wife and infant claim thy life!
(II)
At length day breaks! At length the sun vouchsafes a glance upon Kamtschaka, but scanty as the pittance thrown to a beggar, which barely suffices to lengthen out his hunger.--Where are ye, many coloured bubbles of my youth?--I am deserted--alone!--No voice to whisper over my sick bed: "Hush! hush! he sleeps:" --No tears over my grave will e'er proclaim "alas, he is dead!" No one hates, no one loves me--and do I still live!--Have they left thee knife, spear, sword, and pistol, and dost thou still live?--Up, break thy fetters! Burst thy prison! My soul is free! My essence knows no chains.--Ah! there hope appears, lovely daughter of captivity,--the delight of every captive. The dagger drops from my hand, and I recline upon her bosom.--
[A pause]
Fool in leading-strings! Hope is a mere doll, which grown up children play with, even to their grave, lest they weep over their misery.--Away with thee! I am not thy dupe, I am a man!--Where is the power that rules my spirit? Who is Lord of my life, but my God--and myself!--
[He observes a knife lying on the table. Fixes his eyes upon it with an earnest and horrible aspect. On a sudden he stretches out his hand and grasps it. Raises his hand irresolutely to stab himself. Looks at the knife, and then up to Heaven alternately. His hand descends gradually upon his knee. As he throws his other arm on the back of the chair and rests his head upon it, a miniature set in diamonds drops from his hair. He starts from the seat in agitation, snatches the miniature up and contemplates it stedfastly. By degrees, sorrow glistens in his eyes, and he cries out]
--My Emilia, my wife!
[He throws the knife far away from him]
Thee, I have rescued! Thee, rapacity has not torn from me. I have preserved thee in my hair--and in my heart--Emilia! The globe lies between us, but God and love know neither space nor time! For thy sake will I live! Live and labour, struggle and dare! This picture be my shield, my talisman, the charm that shall protect me. To the heart which love inhabits, fear is a stranger and vice a cast-off menial. Return, gentle hope, and associate with thy sister love. Separate no more lovely pair! My wife, my Emilia loves me, equally whether an apartment or a quarter of the globe divide us. At this same morning hour she is praying for my deliverance, while an infant in her arms lisps out it's father's name. Live, Benyowsky, live! Thy wife and infant claim thy life!
(II)
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "stranger" in HDIS (Drama)
Citation
Second edition in Google Books: Count Benyowsky, or the Conspiracy of Kamtschatka. A Tragi-Comedy, in Five Acts, Translated from the German, by the Rev. W. Render, 2nd ed. (London: W. J. and J. Richardson, 1798). <Link to Google Books>
Date of Entry
03/06/2006
Date of Review
07/30/2011
