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It is he who stands for the cause of loyalty to which one naturally leans; but he is so portrayed that one soon distrusts and in the end almost despises him. And yet he is no villain of the extreme type so dear to Schiller in his early years. Octavio's conduct and his sentiments are technically correct.
This letter she sent him back by his page, but not the bracelets, which were indeed very fine, and very considerable: at the same time she threatened him with banishment, she so absolutely expected to be disobeyed in all things of that kind, that she dressed herself that day to advantage, which since her arrival she had never done in her own habits: what with her illness, and Philander's absence, a careless negligence had seized her, till roused and weakened to the thoughts of beauty by Octavio's love, she began to try its force, and that day dressed.
Never was any thing so magnificent as this ceremony, the church was on no occasion so richly adorned; Sylvia chanced to be seated near the Prince of Mechlenburgh, who was then in Brussels, and at the ceremony; sad as she was, while the soft music was playing, she discoursed to him, though she knew him not, of the business of the day: he told her, she was to see a sight, that ought to make her sex less cruel; a man extremely beautiful and young, whose fortune could command almost all the pleasures of the world; yet for the love of the most amiable creature in the world, who has treated him with rigour, he abandons this youth and beauty to all the severity of rigid devotion: this relation, with a great deal he said of Octavio's virtues and bravery, had like to have discovered her by putting her into a swoon; and she had much ado to support herself in her seat.
Had I not writ, you would have said I durst not; and when I make a declaration of it, you call it only a slight piece of gallantry: but, Sylvia, you have wit enough to try it a thousand ways, and power enough to make me obey; use the extremity of both, so you recompense me at last with a confession that I was at least found worthy to be numbered in the crowd of your adorers. Sylvia replied, 'He were a dull lover indeed, that would need instructions from the wit of his mistress to give her proofs of his passion; whatever opinion you have of my sense, I have too good a one of Octavio's to believe, that when he is a lover he will want aids to make it appear; till then we will let that argument alone, and consider his address to Philander. She then read over the letter he had writ, which she liked very well for her purpose; for at this time our young Dutch hero was made a property of in order to her revenge on Philander: she told him, he had said too much both for himself and her.
After he had wrote this, he hasted, and throws it into her window, and returned to bed without seeing her, which was no small affliction to his soul: he had an ill night of it, and fancied a thousand tormenting things; that the old gentleman might then be with her; and if alone, what might he not persuade, by force of rich presents, of which his uncle was well stored; and so he guessed, and as he guessed it proved, as by his next night's letter he was informed, that the old lover no sooner saw Sylvia retire, but having in mind to try his fortune in some critical minute for such a minute he had heard there was that favoured lovers; but he goes to his closet, and taking out some jewels of great value, to make himself the more welcome, he goes directly to Sylvia's chamber, and entered just as she had taken up Octavio's letter, and clapped it in her bosom as she heard some body at the door; but was not in a little confusion, when she saw who it was, which she excused, by telling him she was surprised to find herself with a man in her chamber.
Bid him return, oh instantly return I die, I languish for a sight of him descending angels would not be so welcome Why stand ye still have I no power with you Will none obey Then running hastily to the chamber door, she called her page to whom she cried 'Haste, haste, dear youth, and find Octavio out, and bring him to me instantly: tell him I die to see him. The boy, glad of so kind a message to so liberal a lover, runs on his errand, while she returns to her chamber, and endeavours to recollect her senses against Octavio's coming as much as possibly she could: she dismisses her attendant with different apprehensions; sometimes Brilliard believed this was the second part of her first raving, and having never seen her thus, but for Philander, concludes it the height of tenderness and passion for Octavio; but because she made so public a declaration of it, he believed he had given her a philtre, which had raised her flame so much above the bounds of modesty and discretion; concluding it so, he knew the usual effects of things of that nature, and that nothing could allay the heat of such a love but possession; and easily deluded with every fancy that flattered his love, mad, stark-mad, by any way to obtain the last blessing with Sylvia, he consults with Antonet how to get one of Octavio's letters out of her lady's cabinet, and feigning many frivolous reasons, which deluded the amorous maid, he persuaded her to get him one, which she did in half an hour after; for by this time Sylvia being in as much tranquillity as it was possible a lover could be in, who had the hopes of knowing all the secrets of the false betrayer, she had called Antonet to dress her; which she resolved should be in all the careless magnificence that art or nature could put on; to charm Octavio wholly to obedience, whom she had sent for, and whom she expected!
'See, madam, says Antonet, 'here is a letter yet unread: Sylvia, who had been a great while impatient for the return of Octavio's answer from Philander, expecting from thence the confirmation of all her doubts, hastily snatched the letter out of Antonet's hand, and read it, hoping to have found something there to have eased her soul one way or other; a soul the most raging and haughty by nature that ever possessed a body: the words were these.
While he was thus considering, he saw his uncle's coach coming, and Sylvia with that doting lover in it, who was that day dressed in all the fopperies of youth, and every thing was young and gay about him but his person; that was winter itself, disguised in artificial spring; and he was altogether a mere contradiction: but who can guess the disorders and pantings of Octavio's heart at the sight?
It being now about the break of day, Octavio was the coachman, and the page riding by the coach-side, while Sylvia and Antonet were in it, they in an hour's time reached the town, where Octavio packed up all that was carriageable; took his own coach and six horses; left his affairs to the management of a kinsman, that dwelt with him, took bills to the value of two thousand pounds, and immediately left the town, after receiving some letters that came last night by the post, one of which was from Philander; and indeed, this new grief upon Octavio's soul, made him the most dejected and melancholy man in the world, insomuch that he, who never wept for any thing but for love, was often found with tears rolling down his cheeks, at the remembrance of an accident so deplorable, and of which, he and his unhappy passion was the cause, though innocently: yet could not the dire reflection of that, nor the loss of so tender a parent as was Sebastian, lessen one spark of that fire for Sylvia, whose unfortunate flame had been so fatal.
Then was my horse killed under me: I sank; And over me away, all unconcernedly, Drove horse and rider and thus trod to pieces I lay, and panted like a dying man; Then seized me suddenly a savior arm; It was Octavio's I woke at once, 'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me. "My brother," said he, "do not ride to-day The dapple, as you're wont; but mount the horse Which I have chosen for thee.
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