Home | Search | About | Fidelio | Economy | Strategy | Justice | Conferences | Join
| Calendar | Music | Books | Concerts | Links | Education | Health
What's New | LaRouche | Spanish Pages | PoetryMaps
Dialogue of Cultures

Helga Zepp-LaRouche
Presentation to
November 1, Cadre School
on the Importance of Friedrich Schiller

Part I

Related Articles

On Humanity— You can never think greatly enough about it; How you carry it in your bosom, you imprint upon your deeds

First Speaker: Good evening!

You all treasure our great Poet of Freedom, Friedrich Schiller, whose 244th birthday we celebrate this evening. And therefore it will be easy for you to observe the present time with his eyes and consider from his point of view what classical art can perhaps effect today.

Therefore we will proceed in a manner directly opposite to that of the representatives of the Regie theater: We do not want to “modernize” the ideas of Schiller with the banal traits of the present time, but rather we want to ask ourselves, how we actually stand today as measured by Schiller's standards.

If we remember how Schiller described the moral conditions of his time in “On Grace and Dignity”—What would he say today? The large part of our civilization seems to be even more brutalized than in Schiller's time. The majority of humanity suffers unbearable privation, while another part is enslaved by a senseless desire for consumption. A spiral of violence terrorizes mankind in ever more regions of the world, but oddly enough we find this violence in films, on television and the internet to be “entertaining”—otherwise the “Terminator” could not have become the Governor of California. An apparently boundless increase in pleasure-seeking by part of the society has led to the fact that the ability to distinguish between right and wrong has been widely lost: One should only not let oneself get caught, is, on the contrary, the precept.

A large part of humanity lacks the minimum prerequisites for a life worthy of man, while those who are not affected manifest an astoundingly brutal indifference to this deplorable state of affairs. Universal history is full of examples that show that civilizations, which exhibit a comparable paradigm, are lawfully destroyed.

Schiller was absolutely conscious of the fact that European history is characterized by two completely opposed traditions: The one proceeds from the fact that man is only a being of sensuous experience. Plato describes this case in his famous cave metaphor, where the man sits in an only barely lit cave, and does not regard the actual occurences, which take place outside his visual sphere, but rather their shadows, as reality. Such a man, imprisoned in the world of sensuous experience and desire, is robbed of his actual humanity and Schiller has made every effort in all of his work in all of its aspects to lift his reader and audience out of this miserable condition.

And thus our poet acted very polemically, for he wanted to hold up a mirror to his contemporaries imprisoned in this condition, because self-knowledge is the first step to overcoming such a problem. But perhaps he wrote not only for his own contemporaries, perhaps he had a presentiment of the public in the soccer stadium or at the pop-concert and rave-parties?

Speaker A: It seems that he writes thus in “On Grace and Dignity.”

If, on the other hand, the person, subjugated by needs, allows natural instinct unfettered rule over himself, then, along with his inner autonomy, every trace of freedom in his form vanishes as well. Only bestiality speaks forth from the rolling, glassy eye, the lusting, open mouth, the strangled, trembling voice, the quickly gasping breath, the trembling limbs, from the entire flaccid form. All resistance of moral power has given way, and nature in him is set in total freedom.

But, just this total cessation of self-activity, which usually ensues in the moment of sensuous longing, and even more in the enjoyment of it, also sets raw matter, previously constrained by the balance of active and passive forces, momentarily free. The dead forces of nature begin to take the upper hand over the living ones of organization; form begins to be repressed by mass, humanity by common nature.

The soul-beaming eye becomes lustreless, or stares glassily and vacant out of its socket; the fine, rosy color of the cheeks thickens into a coarse and uniform bleachy flush; the mouth becomes a mere hole, since its form is no longer the effect of active, but of waning forces; the voice and sighing breath, nothing but noises, by means of which the heavy chest seeks relief, and betrays now merely a mechanical need, but no soul.

In a word: with the freedom which sensuousness usurps unto itself, beauty is inconceivable.... A person in this condition outrages not merely moral sensibility, which unyieldingly demands the expression of humanity; the aesthetical sensibility, too, which satisfies itself not with mere matter, rather seeks free pleasure in the form, will turn away in disgust from such a sight, in which only lusts can find their account. Vol. II pp. 362-63

Youth: But wait a minute, I think it is totally uncool, if you use as an example for being imprisoned in sensuous desires people who go to Pop and Rave parties. I admit that it is not especially original, when millions of young people all practice basically the same songs, to get themsleves ready for Dieter Bohlen.

But it becomes painful, when my mother constantly wants to go with my sister to the disco. And when my old man with his bald head and pony tail follows his Abba nostalgia. That fits Schiller's earlier description.

And overall I do not find it exactly super, the kind of world the Baby Boomers gave to the current youth generation. Somehow each one thinks only about his own advantage, they have all filled their pockets, and now, when we young people want to know how the future is going to look for us, we only hear: Save, Save, Save. Somehow that is completely stupid.

Speaker A: In his deeds man paints himself, and what form is it, which is reflected in the drama of the present time! Here return to a savage state, there a state of enervation: The two greatest extremes of human degeneration, and both united in one space of time.

In the lower and more numerous classes brutal lawless instincts present themselves to us, which unleash themselves after the dissolved bond of the civil order and hasten with unruly fury to their animal satisfaction. Vol. 1 p. 230

On the other side, the civilized classes give us the still adverse sight of slackness and of a depravity of character, which revolts so much the more, because culture itself is its source. I no longer remember, which ancient or modern philosopher made the observation, that the more noble would be in its destruction the more horrible, but one will find it true as well in the moral. From the son of nature emerges, when he indulges in excess, a raving madman; from the pupil of art a worthless villain. The enlightenment of the understanding, on which the refined classes not entirely with injustice pride themselves, shows in the whole so little an ennobling influence on the inner convictions, that it rather strengthens the corruption through maxims. p. 231

First Speaker: It is noteworthy that the people who have up to now profited from the ruling system and have thought that everyone can become a millionaire by speculating on the stockmarket, seem to notice nothing about the general indolence and depravity of the character of society. Now first, when it becomes obvious that not only the bubbles in the financial markets are bursting, but rather also the real economy is in a free fall, and all money-bags are empty, the satisfied complacency receives a deep rupture. The change in values of a society, of which people were proud, to produce the best products in the world, back to to an amusement and consumer society took place over 30 years in many small steps. The result is a spiritual retrogression of the whole population, as one can see in the entertainment industry, but also in academic life.

Speaker B: Schiller already spoke about this in his 1789 inaugural address at Jena:

The course of studies which the scholar who feeds on bread alone sets himself, is very different from that of the philosophical mind. The former, who for all his diligence, is interested merely in fulfilling the conditions under which he can perform a vocation and enjoy its advantages, who activates the powers of his mind only thereby to improve his material conditions and to satisfy a narrow-minded thirst for fame, such a person has no concern upon entering his academic career, more important than distinguishing most carefully those sciences which he calls 'studies for bread,' from all the rest, which delight the mind for their own sake. Such a scholar believes, that all the time he devoted to these latter, he would have to divert from his future vocation, and this thievery he could never forgive himself. Vol. II pp 254-55

Once he has run his course and attained the goal of his desires, he dismisses the sciences which guided him, for why should he bother with them any longer? His greatest concern now is to display these accumulated treasures of his memory, and to take care, that their value not depreciate. Every extension of his bread-science upsets him, because it portends only more work, or it makes the past useless; every important innovation frightens him, because it shatters the old school form which he so laboriously adopted, it places him in danger of losing the entire effort of his preceding life.

Who rants more against reformers than the gaggle of bread-fed scholars? Who more holds up the progress of useful revolutions in the kingdom of Knowledge than these very men? Every light radiated by a happy genius, in whichever science it be, makes their poverty apparent; their foils are bitterness, insidiousness, and desperation, for, in the school system they defend, they do battle at the same time for their entire existence. On that score, there is no more irreconcilable enemy, no more jealous official, no one more eager to denounce heresy than the bread-fed scholar.

The less his knowledge rewards him on its own account, the more he devours acclaim thrown at him from the outside; he ha but one standard for the work of the craftsman, as well as for the work of the mind—effort. Thus, one hears no one complain more about ingratitude than the bread-fed scholar; he seeks his rewards not in the treasures of his mind—his recompense he expects from the recognition of others, from positions of honor, from personal security. If he miscarries in this, who is more unhappy than the bread-fed scholar? He has lived, worried, and worked in vain; he has sought in vain for truth, if for him this truth not transfer itself into gold. published praise, and princely favor.

Pitiful man, who, with the noblest of all tools, with science and art, desires and obtains nothing higher than the day-laborer with the worst of tools, who, in the kingdom of complete freedom, drags an enslaved soul around with him! p. 256

First Speaker: The problem lies simply in the fact that in the world of sensuous experience no solutions are possible on a higher level, because one can not at all think beyond the apparently self-evident Here and Now. The bread-fed academic is relatively harmless, But when things are treated in this way in grand politics, it leads to a catastrophe. This is the case in all of Schiller's dramas: If the leading person, the hero, the heroine, can elevate himself above the level of the sensuous self-interest, then the drama ends positively, as in the case of Joan of Arc or William Tell. If he can not do so, then the drama ends as tragedy.

For example, in Mary Stuart the play comes to the famous exchange between the two queens, which demonstrates, how chances are squandered, if each person only lets his emotions run freely. The English Queen;, Elizabeth, the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, fears a deadly rival in the Catholic Mary. The Queen of Scotland has been raised in France and has certain claims on the English throne. When Mary fleets to England in the face of a revolt of her own lords and seeks help from Elizabeth, the latter illegally imprisons her and executes her in 1587.

MARY (pulls herself together and wants to move toward

ELIZABETH, but at half way stands still shuddering, her
demeanor expresses the most intense struggle)

ELIZABETH: How, my Lords?
Who was it then, who did announce to me
One bowed down low? I find a prideful one,
In no way by misfortune humbled.

MARY: Be't!
I will submit myself as well to this.
Fare well, unconscious pride o'th' noble soul!
I will forget, who 'tis I am, and what
I suffer, I will cast myself 'fore her,
Who thrust me into this humiliation.
(She turns towards the QUEEN)
The Heavens have decided for you, Sister!
Your happy head is crowned by victory,
The Godhead I adore, which raised you up!
(She falls down before her)
Yet be you also nobleminded, Sister!
Let me not lie disgracefully, your hand
Stretch out, extend to me the royal rights,
To elevate me from this deep decline.

ELIZABETH (stepping back):
You're in the place which suits you, Lady Mary!
And thankfully I praise my God's good grace,
Who hath not wished, that at your feet I should
So lie, as you are lying now at mine.

MARY (with mounting emotion):
Think of the change of all things human!
Gods live, who vengeance take on arrogance!
Revere them, fear them, these most dreadful ones,
Who hurled me down before your very feet—
For the sake of these strange witnesses, don't
Yourself in me, profane not, sully not
The blood o'th' Tudor, which within my veins
Flows as it doth in yours—O God in heaven!
Stand not there, rough and unavailing, like
Some rocky cliff, which one who hath been stranded
With great exertion vainly strives to seize.
My all, my life, my destiny depends
Upon the power of my words, my tears,
Release my heart, so that I may move yours!
If you regard me with this icy look,
My shudd'ring heart locks itself up, the stream
Of tears runs dry, and freezing horror fetters
The words of supplication in my bosom.

ELIZABETH (cold and stern):
What do you have to say to me, Lady Stuart?
You've wished to speak with me. I shall forget
The Queen, who hath been grievously abused,
To do the pious duty of the sister,
And grant I you the solace of my sight.
The drive of magnanimity I follow,
Expose myself to rightful blame, that I've
So far descended—for you know,
That you have wanted to effect my murder.

MARY: By what means shall I make a start, how shall
I prudently arrange the words, so that
They grip your heart, but not give you offense!
O God, give power to my speech, and take
From it each thorn, which could do harm! Yet I
Cannot speak for myself, without severely
Indicting you, and I will not do that.
—The way you've acted towards me is not right,
Because I am a Queen like you, and you
Have kept me locked up as a prisoner,
I came to you as a supplicant, and you,
The holy law of hospitality,
The people's holy right in me deriding,
Confined me inside dungeon walls, my friends,
My servants then are cruelly torn from me,
I am abandoned to unworthy want,
I'm placed before an ignominious court—
Nought more thereof! May an oblivion
Eterne bedeck, what cruelties I bore.
—See! Everything I would ascribe to fate,
You are not guilty, also I'm not guilty,
An evil spirit rose from the abyss,
To set on fire the hatred in our hearts,
By which our tender youth was torn in two.
It grew with us, and evil-minded men
Did fan the grievous flames with their own breath.
Insane fanatics amply did equip
With sword and dagger the uncalled for hand—
That is the curséd destiny of kings,
That they, divided, rend the world in hate,
And let the furies of all discord loose.
—Now 'twixt us there's a foreign tongue no more,
(approaches her confidingly and with a flattering
We stand now face to face with one another.
Now, Sister, speak! Point out to me my guilt,
I wish to give you total satisfaction.
Ah, that you then had granted me a hearing,
When I so urgently besought your eye!
It never would have come so far, nor would
Have happened now in this unhappy place
This miserable, unhappy rendezvous.

ELIZABETH: My lucky star protected me, so that
I did not lay the adder to my breast.
—Not destiny, but your own blackened heart
Indict, the wild ambition of your house.
Between us nothing hostile had occurred,
When your proud uncle, the imperious priest,
Who after every crown his daring hand
Extends, threw down the gauntlet unto me,
Deluded you, to take my coat of arms,
To claim my royal title as your own,
To enter into mortal combat with me—
Whom did he not call up to fight against me?
The priest's tongue-lashing and the people's sword,
The frightful arms of pious lunacy,
Here even, in my kingdom's peaceful seat,
He fanned the flames against me of revolt—
Yet God is with me, and the prideful priest
Did not retain the field—My head it was
The stroke had threatened, and its yours which

MARY: I stand i'th' hand of God. You won't exempt
Yourself so bloodily from pow'r that's yours—

ELIZABETH: Who then shall hinder me? Your uncle gave
The standard for all kings throughout the world,
How one concludes a peace with enemies,
My school be that of Saint Bartholomew!
To me what's blood relation, nation's law?
The church can break the bands of every duty,
It hallows breach of truth and regicide,
I practice only that which your priests teach.
Say then! What pledge is granted me for you,
If I magnanimously release your bonds?
And with what lock can I secure your faith,
Which by Saint Peter's key cannot be opened?
My only surety is force alone,
There's no alliance with the brood of snakes.

MARY: O that is your unhappy dark suspicion!
You've constantly regarded me as but
An enemy and foreigner. Had you
Declared me as your heiress, as to me
Is due, so had then gratitude and love
In me obtained for you a loyal friend
And relative.

ELIZABETH: Abroad, my Lady Stuart,
Your friendship is, your house the papacy,
Your brother is the monk—yourself, declare
To be the heiress! The perfidious snare!
That yet within my life you would seduce
My people, a duplicitous Armida
Entangle cunningly the noble youth
Throughout my realm within your wanton nets—
That all would then devote themselves to th' new
Arising sun, and I—

MARY: Would rule in peace!
I give up any claim upon this realm.
Alas, my spirit's pinions have been lamed,
Greatness no longer tempts me—You've attained
It, I am only Mary's shadow now.
In lengthy prison shame my noble valor
Hath broken down—You've done the uttermost
To me, you have destroyed me in my bloom!
—Now bring it to an end, my sister. Speak
The word, for whose sake you have now come here,
For ne'er will I believe, that you have come,
In order cruelly to deride your victim.
Pronounce this word. Say to me: “Mary, you
Are free! You have already felt my power,
My generosity now learn to honor.”
Say it, and I will then receive my life,
My freedom as a present from your hand.
—One word makes everything undone. I wait
For it. O let me not too long await it!
Woe's you, if with this word you do not end!
For if not bringing blessings, gloriously,
Like to a Godhead you now leave me—Sister!
Not for this whole abundant island, not
For all the countries, which the sea embraces,
Would I 'fore you thus stand, as you 'fore me!

ELIZABETH: Do you at last admit you are defeated?
Are your intrigues now done? No more assassins
Are on the way? Will no adventurer
For you again his doleful knighthood venture?
—Yes, it is finished, Lady Mary. You'll seduce
None more 'gainst me. The world hath other cares.
No one is covetous of being your—
Fourth husband, for your suitor you destroy,
Just like your husbands!.

MARY (starting): Sister! Sister!
O God! God! give me self-control!

ELIZABETH (regards her at length with a look of proud
Those then, Lord Leicester, are the winsome charms,
Which no man views unpunished, next to which
No other woman may dare place herself!
Forsooth! This fame was cheaply to be gained,
To be the universal beauty costs
Nothing but to be commonplace for all!

MARY: That is too much!

ELIZABETH (laughing derisively):
Now you are showing your
True face, 'til now 'twas but the mask.

MARY (fuming with rage, yet with a noble dignity):
My failures have been human and from youth,
I was seduced by pow'r, I have it not
Concealed and kept in secret, false appearance
I have despised, with royal candidness.
The worst of me the world knows well and I
Can say, that I am better than my fame.
Woe's you, when from your deeds it one day draws
The cloak of honor, with which you with glister
Conceal the savage fire of furtive lusts.
Not worthiness did you inherit from
Your mother, one knows, for which virtue's sake
Anne Boleyn was compelled to mount the scaffold.
MARY: I have
Endured what human nature can endure.
Fare well, lamb-hearted equanimity....
The throne of England by a bastard is
Profaned, the noble-hearted British people
Have been defrauded by a cunning juggler.
—If right did rule, then in the dust you now
Would lie before me, for I am your king.
(ELIZABETH exits quickly, the lords follow her in
highest dismay
) Vol. 4 pp. 152-158

Young Girl: My goodness, they have really quarrelled!

First Speaker: Yes, if the piece were to end there, then it would almost be modern. But with Schiller, Mary now undergoes a development, she achieves a sublime state of mind, and even though Elizabeth has her killed, Mary is internally free.

But Schiller also has examples in his dramas, of how his heroes can struggle to rise from the level of sensuous entanglement to the level of reason. In “Don Carlos,” for example, Elizabeth succeeds in pulling Carlos out of his “Schwaermerei” and in making him conscious of his historical responsibility.

Speaker A: Don Carlos, the Infant of Spain, was engaged to Elizabeth of Valois, before his father, Philip II, married her and thus made her Queen of Spain and his step-mother. Carlos has not reconciled himself with this and nourishes the love to his previous financee, which in the Spain of the Inquisition is naturally hopeless.

CARLOS (thrown down before the QUEEN):
So is it finally here, the precious moment,
And Carl may dare to touch this cherished hand!—

QUEEN: What kind of step—and what a culpable,
Adventuresome surprise! Stand up! We are
Discovered now. My retinue's nearby.

CARLOS: I'll not stand up—here will I ever kneel.
Upon this spot I'll lie enchantedly.
I shall take root in this position—

QUEEN: Madman!
Unto what boldness doth my favor lead you?
How? Do you know, that 'tis the Queen, that 'tis
The mother, to whom this audacious speech
Is now directed? Do you know, that I—
That I myself of this surprise invasion
Unto the King—

CARLOS: And that I then must die!
They'd drag me straight from here onto the scaffold!
One moment, to have lived in paradise,
Will not be bought too dearly with my death.

QUEEN: And what then of your Queen?

CARLOS (stands up) God, God! I'll go—
I shall indeed foresake you.—Must I not,
When you demand it thusly? Mother! Mother!
How frightfully you play with me! One sign,
One half a glance, one sound from out your mouth
Enjoins me, both to be and pass away.
What do you want, that yet should come to pass?
What can there be beneath this sun, that I
Will not make haste to sacrifice, if you
So wish it?

QUEEN: Fly from me.


QUEEN: This one
Thing only, Carl, wherefore I conjure you
With teardrops—Fly from me!—before my ladies—
Before my jailers find you here with me
Together, and then bring the major news
Before your father's ears—

CARLOS: I shall await
My destiny—and be it life or death.
What? Have I concentrated all my hopes
Upon this single moment, which doth grant
You to me without witnesses at last,
That bogus terrors duped me at the goal?
No, Queen! The world can move a hundred times,
A thousand times upon its poles before
This favor of coincidence repeats.

QUEEN: And that it should not in eternity.
Unhappy man! What do you want from me?

CARLOS: O queen, that I have struggled, struggled, as
No mortal ever struggled to this day,
Let God then be my witness—Queen, in vain!
Behind me is my valor. I succumb.

QUEEN: No more of this—for my repose's sake—

CARLOS: You once were mine—in view of all the world
Awarded to me by two mighty thrones,
Conferred on me by heaven and by nature,
And Philip, Philip's stolen you from me—

QUEEN: He is your father.

CARLO: And your husband.

Bequeaths to you the world's most mighty realm.

CARLOS: And you as mother—

QUEEN: Mighty God! You rave—

CARLOS: And knows he too how rich he is? Hath he
A feeling heart, to treasure that of yours?
I'll not lament it, no, I shall forget,
How happy past all utterance were I
Become to have your hand—if he but is.
But he is not.—That, that is hellish torment!
That he is not and never shall become.
Thou tookst my heaven from me, only to
Annihilate it there in Philip's arms.

QUEEN: Abominable thought!

CARLOS: O yes, I know,
Who was the author of this marriage—and
I know, how Philip loves and how he woo'd.
Who are you then within this realm? Let's hear,
By chance, the Regent? Nevermore! Where you're
The Regent, how then could these Albas slaughter?
And how could Flanders bleed for its belief?
Or are you Philip's wife? Impossible!
This I cannot believe. A wife possesses
The husband's heart—to whom doth his belong?
And doth he not, for every tenderness,
That might escape from him in feverish ardor,
Apologize unto his scepter and
To his grey hairs?

QUEEN: Who told you, that my lot
Be worthy of lament at Philip's side?

CARLOS: My heart, that strongly feels, how enviable
At my side 'twere.

QUEEN: Conceited man! If my
Own heart now said the opposite to me?
If Philip's deferential tenderness,
Should move me far more intimately than
His haughty son's audacious eloquence?
If an old man's considerate regard—

CARLOS: Then that is different—then—yet, then—your pardon.
I did not know it, that you love the King.

QUEEN: My wish and pleasure is to honor him.

CARLOS: Then you have never loved?

QUEEN: Peculiar question!

CARLOS: Then you have never loved?

QUEEN: —I love no more.

CARLOS: Because your heart, because your vow forbids it?

QUEEN: Depart from me now, Prince, and do not come
For such a conversation e'er again.

CARLOS: Because your vow, because your heart forbids it?

QUEEN: Because my duty—Hapless one, whereto
The sad dissection of the destiny
That you and I must both obey?

CARLOS: We must?
We must obey?

QUEEN: What? what is it you want
With this most solemn tone?

CARLOS: So much, that Carlos
Is not disposed, to must, where he hath but
To will; that Carlos is not so disposed
To stay the one most miserable i'th' realm,
When it should cost him but the overthrow
Of laws, and nothing more, to be the one
Most blissful.

QUEEN: Do I understand you now?
You yet do hope? You venture it, to hope,
Where every, everything's already lost?

CARLOS: I give up naught for lost except the dead.

QUEEN: On me, upon your mother, rest you hopes?—
(She views him long and penetratingly—then with dignity and
Why not then? Oh! The new elected King
Can do yet more than that—can extirpate
Decrees of the departed one through fire,
Can fell his images, and what is more—
Who should prevent him?—drag the dead one's mummy
From its repose in the Escurial
Into the light o'th' sun, and strew about
His desecrated dust to the four winds
And last, to consummate it worthily—

CARLOS: For love of God, do not complete the thought!

QUEEN: At last he can yet marry with his mother.

CARLOS: Accursed son!
(He stands a moment blank and speechless.)
Yes, it is out. Now is
It out—I feel it clear and bright, that which
Should ever, ever dark remain for me.
For me you're gone—gone—gone—forevermore!—
And now the die is cast. You're lost to me.—
Oh, Hell doth lie within this feeling! Hell
Doth lie in yet another feeling, in
Possessing you.—Alas! I grasp it not,
And now my nerves are at the breaking point.

QUEEN: Lamentable, O precious Carl! I feel—
I feel completely this, the nameless pain,
That storms now in your bosom. Infinite's
Your torment, like your love. Yet infinite
Alike's the glory, this to overcome.
Attain it, youthful hero. The reward
Is worthy of this strong and lofty fighter,
Is worthy of the youth, through whose heart rolls
The virtue of so many regal forbears.
Take courage, noble Prince.—The grandson of
The mighty Carl shall start afresh to struggle,
Where others' children end dejectedly.

CARLOS: Too late! O God! it is too late!

QUEEN: To be
A man? O Carl! How great our virtue grows,
When in its exercise our heart doth break!
'Twas high that Prov'dence placed you—higher, Prince,
Than millions of your other brothers. She,
In partiality gave to her favorite,
What she from others too, and millions ask:
Did he deserve to count in Mother's womb
For more already than we other mortals?
Up, vindicate the equity of Heaven!
Deserve to walk before the rest o'th' world,
And sacrifice, what none have sacrificed!

CARLOS: That I can do as well.—to fight for you,
I have a giant's strength, to lose you, none.

QUEEN: Confess it, Carlos—'tis but spitefulness
And bitterness and pride, that draws your wishes
So fiercely to your mother. That same love,
The heart, you offer wastefully to me,
Belongs to th' realms, that you should rule in days
To come. You see, you squander all the goods
That in your trust your ward hath held for you.
Love is your greatest office. But 'til now
It's stray'd unto your mother.—Bring it now,
O, bring it now to your prospective realms
And feel, instead of daggers of the conscience,
Just how voluptuous 'tis to be God.
Elisabeth was your first love. Be Spain
Your second love! How gladly, my good Carl,
Will I give way to th' loftier Beloved!

CARLOS (throws himself, overwhelmed with feeling, at her feet):
How great you are, O Heavenly!—Yes, all
You charge me with, that shall I do!—So be't!
(He arises.)
I stand here in th' Almighty's hand and swear—
And swear to you, I swear eternally—
O Heaven! No! Eternal silence only,
Yet not to e'er forget it.

QUEEN: How could I
Demand of Carlos, what I am myself
Unwilling to perform?

Vol. 1 pp. 21-25

Go to Part II

Related Articles

Writings of Friedrich Schiller

Lyndon LaRouche in Dialogue, 2003

Lyndon LaRouche in Dialogue, 2002

Meet Lyndon H. LaRouche

Revolution in Music

Education, Science and Poetry

Fidelio Table of Contents from 1992-1996

Fidelio Table of Contents from 1997-2001

Fidelio Table of Contents from 2002-present

Beautiful Front Covers of Fidelio Magazine

What is the Schiller Institute?

top of page


The Schiller Institute
PO BOX 20244
Washington, DC 20041-0244

Thank you for supporting the Schiller Institute. Your membership and contributions enable us to publish FIDELIO Magazine, and to sponsor concerts, conferences, and other activities which represent critical interventions into the policy making and cultural life of the nation and the world.

Contributions and memberships are not tax-deductible.


Home | Search | About | Fidelio | Economy | Strategy | Justice | Conferences | Join
| Calendar | Music | Books | Concerts | Links | Education | Health
What's New | LaRouche | Spanish Pages | PoetryMaps
Dialogue of Cultures

© Copyright Schiller Institute, Inc. 2003. All Rights Reserved.