The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Götz Von Berlichingen With the Iron Hand. a Drama.
• Dramatis PersonÆ
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: An Inn At Schwarzenberg In Franconia.
• Scene II.—: A Cottage In a Thick Forest.
• Scene III.—: An Apartment In Jaxthausen, the Castle of Goetz Von Berlichingen.
• Scene IV.—: The Bishop of Bamberg’s Palace.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Bamberg. a Hall.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen. a Hall In Goetz’s Castle.
• Scene III.—: The Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene IV.—: The Spessart.
• Scene V.—: The Bishop’s Palace. His Cabinet.
• Scene VI.—: Adelaide’s Apartment.
• Scene VII.—: An Ante-room.
• Scene VIII.—: The Spessart.
• Scene IX.—: Hall In the Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene X—: an Inn.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: A Garden At Augsburg.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene III.—: The Camp of the Party Sent to Execute the Imperial Mandate.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: Bamberg. Adelaide’s Chamber.
• Scene VI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene VII.—: A Wood On the Borders of a Morass.
• Scene VIII.—: Camp of the Imperialists.
• Scene IX.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene X.—: The Imperial Camp.
• Scene XI.—: Mountains and a Wood.
• Scene XII.—: A Heath—on One Side an Eminence, With a Ruined Tower, On the Other the Forest.
• Scene XIII.—: The Camp.
• Scene XIV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XV.—: Camp.
• Scene XVI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XVII.—: The Kitchen.
• Scene XVIII.—: A Hall.
• Scene XIX.—: The Court of the Castle.
• Scene XX.: The Armory.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: An Inn In the City of Heilbronn
• Scene II.—: The Council-house At Heilbronn.
• Scene III.—: A Large Hall In the Council-house, Beset By Sickingen’s Troops.
• Scene IV.—: The Castle of Adelaide. Augsburg.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Village Plundered By the Insurgent Peasantry. Shrieks and Tumult.
• Scene II.—: Open Country. In the Distance Two Villages and an Abbey Are Burning.
• Scene III.—: A Hill and Prospect of the Country. In the Flat Scene a Mill. a Body of Horsemen.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: A Village.
• Scene VI.—: The Front of a Gypsy-hut In a Wild Forest.—night.—a Fire Before the Hut, At Which Are Seated the Mother of the Gypsies and a Girl.
• Scene VII.—: Inside the Hut.
• Scene VIII.—: Adelaide’s Bedchamber.
• Scene IX.—: Street Before the Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene X.—: An Apartment In Weislingen’s Castle.
• Scene XI.—: A Narrow Vault Dimly Illuminated. the Judges of the Secret Tribunal Discovered Seated, All Muffled In Black Cloaks.
• Scene XII.—: The Court of an Inn.
• Scene XIII.—: The Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene the Last. —: the Prison Garden.
• Iphigenia In Tauris a Drama
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: A Grove Before the Temple of Diana.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Torquato Tasso
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.: A Garden Adorned With Busts of the Epic Poets. to the Right a Bust of Virgil: to the Left, One of Ariosto.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: A Room.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Chamber.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Garden.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Clavigo
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Dwelling.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Dwelling.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s House.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Abode. Carlos, Alone.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Street Before the House of Guilbert. Night.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Stella. a Tragedy.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Brother and Sister
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• A Tale.
• The Good Women.
• Reynard the Fox.
• Chapter I.: The Accusation.
• Chapter II.: The First Summons.
• Chapter III.: The Second Summons.
• Chapter IV.: The Trial.
• Chapter V.: The Pardon.
• Chapter VI.: The Relapse.
• Chapter VII.: The Outlawry.
• Chapter VIII.: The Journey.
• Chapter IX.: The Advocacy.
• Chapter X.: The Second Pardon.
• Chapter XI.: The Defiance.
• Chapter XII.: The Battle.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Iphigenia.

When the Powers on high decree

For a feeble child of earth

Dire perplexity and woe,

And his spirit doom to pass

With tumult wild from joy to grief,

And back again from grief to joy,

In fearful alternation;

They in mercy then provide,

In the precincts of his home,

Or upon the distant shore,

That to him may never fail

Ready help in hours of need,

A tranquil, faithful friend.

Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,

And whatsoever he may undertake!

He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth,

And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel;

For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there

Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower,

And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours

Comfort and counsel for the sore distress’d.

He tore me from my brother, upon whom,

With fond amaze, I gaz’d and gaz’d again;

I could not realize my happiness,

Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not

The danger’s near approach that threatens us.

To execute their project of escape.

They hasten to the sea, where in a bay

Their comrades in the vessel he conceal’d

Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied

With artful answers, should the monarch send

To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see

I must consent to follow like a child,

I have not learn’d deception, not the art

To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.

Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve

The breast like words of truth: it comforts not,

But is a torment in the forger’s heart,

And, like an arrow which a god directs.

Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart

One fear doth chase another: perhaps with rage,

Again on the unconsecrated shore,

The Furies’ grisly band my brother seize

Perchance they are surpris’d! Methinks I hear

The tread of armed men. A messenger

Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.

How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul,

Now that I gaze upon the face of one,

Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!

SCENE II.

Iphigenia, Arkas.

Arkas.

Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!

Impatiently the king and people wait.

Iphigenia.

I had perform’d my duty and thy will,

Had not an unforeseen impediment

The execution of my purpose thwarted.

Arkas.

What is it that obstructs the king’s commands?

Iphigenia.

Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.

Arkas.

Possess me with the reason, that with speed

I may inform the king, who hath decreed

The death of both.

Iphigenia.

The gods have not decreed it.

The elder of these men doth bear the guilt

Of kindred murder; on his steps attend

The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane

They seiz’d upon their prey, polluting thus

The holy sanctuary. I hasten now,

Together with my virgin-train, to bathe

The goddess’ image in the sea, and there

With solemn rites its purity restore.

Let none presume our silent march to follow!

Arkas.

This hindrance to the monarch I’ll announce:

Commence not thou the rite till he permit.

Iphigenia.

The priestess interferes alone in this.

Arkas.

An incident so strange the king should know.

Iphigenia.

Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.

Arkas.

Oft are the great consulted out of form.

Iphigenia.

Do not insist on what I must refuse.

Arkas.

A needful and a just demand refuse not.

Iphigenia.

I yield, if thou delay not.

Arkas.

I with speed

Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon

Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king’s reply.

There is a message I would gladly bear him;

’Twould quickly banish all perplexity:

Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend’s advice.

Iphigenia.

I willingly have done whate’er I could.

Arkas.

E’en now ’tis not too late to change thy purpose.

Iphigenia.

To do so is, alas, beyond our power.

Arkas.

What thou would’st shun, thou deem’st impossible.

Iphigenia.

Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.

Arkas.

Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?

Iphigenia.

My fate I have committed to the gods.

Arkas.

The gods are wont to save by human means.

Iphigenia.

By their appointment everything is done.

Arkas.

Believe me, all doth now depend on thee.

The irritated temper of the king

Alone condemns these men to bitter death.

The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice

And bloody service long have been disus’d;

Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast

In foreign regions, there themselves have felt

How godlike to the exil’d wanderer

The friendly countenance of man appears.

Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid!

With case thou canst thy sacred task fulfil;

For nowhere doth benignity, which comes

In human form from heaven, so quickly gain

An empire o’er the heart, as where a race,

Gloomy and savage, full of life and power,

Without external guidance, and oppress’d

With vague forebodings, bear life’s heavy load.

Iphigenia.

Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend

According to thy will.

Arkas.

While there is time,

Nor labor nor persuasion shall be spar’d.

Iphigenia.

Thy labor but occasions pain to me;

Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.

Arkas.

I summon pain to aid me, ’tis a friend

Who counsels wisely.

Iphigenia.

Though it shakes my soul.

It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.

Arkas.

Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel

For benefits bestow’d by one so noble?

Iphigenia.

Yes, when the donor, for those benefits,

Instead of gratitude, demands myself.

Arkas.

Who no affection feels doth never want

Excuses. To the king I will relate

What hath befallen. Oh, that in thy soul

Thou would’st revolve his noble conduct to thee

Since thy arrival to the present day!

SCENE III.

Iphigenia.

(Alone.) These words at an unseasonable hour

Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;

I am alarm’d!—For as the rushing tide

In rapid currents eddies o’er the rocks

Which lie among the sand upon the shore,

E’en so a stream of joy o’erwhelm’d my soul.

I grasp’d what had appear’d impossible.

It was as though another gentle cloud

Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,

And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep

Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,

What time her circling arm from danger snatch’d me.

My brother forcibly engross’d my heart;

I listen’d only to his friend’s advice;

My soul rush’d eagerly to rescue them,

And as the mariner with joy surveys

The less’ning breakers of a desert isle,

So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice

Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,

Reminding me that those whom I forsake

Are also men. Deceit doth now become

Doubly detested. O my soul, be still!

Beginn’st thou now to tremble and to doubt?

Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth

Must thou abandon? and, embark’d once more,

At random drift upon tumultuous waves,

A stranger to thyself and to the world?

SCENE IV.

Iphigenia, Pylades.

Pylades.

Where is she? that my words with speed may tell

The joyful tidings of our near escape!

Iphigenia.

Oppress’d with gloomy care, I much require

The certain comfort thou dost promise me.

Pylades.

Thy brother is restor’d! The rocky paths

Of this unconsecrated shore we trod

In friendly converse, while behind us lay,

Unmark’d by us, the consecrated grove;

And ever with increasing glory shone

The fire of youth around his noble brow.

Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir’d:

And his exultant heart resign’d itself

To the delight, the joy, of rescuing

Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend.

Iphigenia.

The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades!

And from those lips which breathe such welcome news,

Be the sad note of anguish never heard!

Pylades.

I bring yet more,—for Fortune, like a prince,

Comes not alone, but well accompanied.

Our friends and comrades we have also found.

Within a bay they had conceal’d the ship,

And mournful sat expectant. They beheld

Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais’d.

Imploring him to haste the parting hour.

Each hand impatient long’d to grasp the oar,

While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze,

Perceiv’d by all, unfurl’d its wing auspicious.

Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane,

That I may tread the sanctuary, and win

With sacred awe the goal of our desires.

I can unaided on my shoulder bear

The goddess’ image: how I long to feel

The precious burden!

[While speaking the last words, he appreaches the Temple, without perceiving that he is not followed byIphigenia:at length he turns round.

Why thus lingering stand?

Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus’d?

Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss?

Inform me, hast thou to the king announc’d

The prudent message we agreed upon?

Iphigenia.

I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide.

Thy very aspect is a mute reproach.

The royal messenger arriv’d, and I,

According to thy counsel, fram’d my speech.

He seem’d surpris’d, and urgently besought

That to the monarch I should first announce

The rite unusual, and attend his will.

I now await the messenger’s return.

Pylades.

Danger again doth hover o’er our heads!

Alas! Why hast thou fail’d to shroud thyself

Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?

Iphigenia.

I never have employ’d them as a veil.

Pylades.

Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike

Thyself and us. Why did I not foresee

Such an emergency, and tutor thee

This counsel also wisely to elude?

Iphigenia.

Chide only me, for mine alone the blame.

Yet other answer could I not return

To him, who strongly and with reason urg’d

What my own heart acknowledg’d to be right.

Pylades.

The danger thickens; but let us be firm,

Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves;

Calmly await the messenger’s return,

And then stand fast, whatever his reply:

For the appointment of such sacred rites

Doth to the priestess, not the king belong.

Should he demand the stranger to behold,

Who is by madness heavily oppress’d,

Evasively pretend that in the fane,

Well guarded, thou retainest him and me.

Thus you secure us time to fly with speed,

Bearing the sacred treasure from this race,

Unworthy its possession. Phœbus sends

Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word,

Ere we the first conditions have perform’d.

Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv’d!

Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle

Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales.

Thence to Mycene, that she may revive;

That from the ashes of the extinguish’d hearth,

The household gods may joyously arise,

And beauteous fire illumine their abode!

Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew

The fragrant incense. O’er that threshold thou

Shalt life and blessing once again dispense,

The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace

With the fresh bloom of renovated life.

Iphigenia.

As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun,

Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns,

Struck by thy words’ invigorating ray.

How dear the counsel of a present friend.

Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one

In silence droops! for, lock’d within his breast,

Slowly are ripen’d purpose and resolve,

Which friendship’s genial warmth had soon matur’d.

Pylades.

Farewell! I haste to reassure our friends,

Who anxiously await us: then with speed

I will return, and, hid within the brake,

Attend thy signal.—Wherefore, all at once,

Doth anxious thought o’ercloud thy brow serene?

Iphigenia.

Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun,

So cares and fears float darkling o’er my soul.

Pylades.

Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form’d

A close alliance,—they are constant friends.

Iphigenia.

It is an honest scruple which forbids

That I should cunningly deceive the king,

And plunder him who was my second father.

Pylades.

Him thou dost fly who would have slain thy brother.

Iphigenia.

To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.

Pylades.

What Fate commands is not ingratitude.

Iphigenia.

Alas! it still remains ingratitude!

Necessity alone can justify it.

Pylades.

Thee, before gods and men, it justifies.

Iphigenia.

But my own heart is still unsatisfied.

Pylades.

Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.

Iphigenia.

I cannot argue, I can only feel.

Pylades.

Conscious of right, thou should’st respect thyself.

Iphigenia.

Then only doth the heart know perfect ease

When not a stain pollutes it.

Pylades.

In this fane

Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us

To be less strict with others and ourselves;

Thou’lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful

Is human nature, and its varied ties

Are so involv’d and complicate, that none

May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,

And walk without perplexity through life.

Nor are we call’d upon to judge ourselves;

With circumspection to pursue his path

Is the immediate duty of a man;

For seldom can he rightly estimate

Or his past conduct or his present deeds.

Iphigenia.

Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.

Pylades.

Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?

To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend,

One path presents itself, and canst thou ask

If we shall follow it?

Iphigenia.

Still let me pause,

For such injustice thou could’st not thyself

Calmly return for benefits receiv’d.

Pylades.

If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,

Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.

It seems thou art not used to suffer much,

When, to escape so great calamity,

Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.

Iphigenia.

Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!

Which, when it hath conceiv’d a bold resolve,

’Gainst every other voice doth close itself.

Pylades.

In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand

Necessity commands; her stern decree

Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves

Must yield submission. In dread silence rules

The uncounsell’d sister of eternal fate.

What she appoints thee to endure,—endure;

What to perform,—perform. The rest thou knowest.

Ere long I will return, and then receive

The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.

SCENE V.

Iphigenia.

(Alone.) I must obey him, for I see my friends

Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate

Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.

May I no longer feed the silent hope

Which in my solitude I fondly cherish’d?

Shall the dire curse eternally endure?

And shall our fated race ne’er rise again

With blessings crown’d?—All mortal things decay!

The noblest powers, the purest joys of life

At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?

And have I vainly hop’d that, guarded here,

Secluded from the fortunes of my race,

I, with pure heart and hands, some future day

Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?

Scarce was my brother in my circling arms

From raging madness suddenly restor’d,

Scarce had the ship, long pray’d for, near’d the strand,

Once more to waft me to my native shores

When unrelenting Fate, with iron hand,

A double crime enjoins; commanding me

To steal the image, sacred and rever’d,

Confided to my care, and him deceive

To whom I owe my life and destiny.

Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!

Nor the old Titan’s hate, toward you, ye gods,

Infix its vulture talons in my breast!

Save me and save your image in my soul!

An ancient song comes back upon mine ear—

I had forgotten it, and willingly—

The Parcæ’s song, which horribly they sang,

What time, hurl’d headlong from his golden seat,

Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend

Keen anguish suffer’d; savage was their breast

And horrible their song. In days gone by,

When we were children, oft our ancient nurse

Would sing it to us, and I mark’d it well.

• • Oh, fear the immortals,
  • Ye children of men!
  • Eternal dominion
  • They hold in their hands,
  • And o’er their wide empire
  • Wield absolute sway.
• • Whom they have exalted
  • Let him fear them most!
  • Around golden tables,
  • On cliffs and clouds resting
  • The seats are prepar’d.
• • If contest ariseth;
  • The guests are hurl’d headlong
  • Disgrac’d and dishonor’d,
  • To gloomy abysses,
  • And fetter’d in darkness,
  • Await with vain longing,
  • A juster decree.
• • But in feasts everlasting,
  • Around the gold tables
  • Still dwell the immortals.
  • From mountain to mountain
  • They stride; while ascending
  • From fathomless chasms,
  • The breath of the Titans,
  • Half-stifled with anguish,
  • Like volumes of incense
  • Fumes up to the skies.
• • From races ill-fated,
  • Their aspect joy bringing,
  • Oft turn the celestials,
  • And shun in the children
  • To gaze on the features
  • Once lov’d and still speaking
  • Of their mighty sire.
• • So chanted the Parcæ;
  • The banish’d one hearkens
  • The song, the hoar captive
  • Immur’d in his dungeon,
  • His children’s doom ponders,
  • And boweth his head.