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 V.

Stella’s Library.

In Moonlight.

Stella.

(She hasFernando’sportrait and is about to pluck it from the frame.) Fulness of the night, surround me! possess me! lead me! I know not whither I am going!—I must! I will away into the wide world! Whither? Alas! whither? Banished from Thy creation! Where thou, holy moon, shinest on the tops of my trees, where thou with thy terrible dear shadow surroundest my darling Mina’s grave, shall I no longer wander? Must I go from the spot where all the treasures of my life, all my sacred associations are gathered?—And thou, place of my tomb, whereupon I have rested so often in reverence and tears, which I consecrated to myself, around which all the melancholy, all the joy of my life was dreamed over, where I hoped even after I should be no more to hover and to find enjoyment while yearning for the past, must I be banished from thee?—Be banished!—Thou art dazed, thank God! Thy brain is seared! thou canst not grasp it—the thought of banishment! Thou would’st lose thy senses! Well!—Oh, I am dizzy!—Farewell!—Farewell!—Shall I never see thee again?—There is a death-glance in the feeling! Not see thee again?—Away! Stella! (She seizes the portrait.) And must I leave thee behind? (She takes a knife and begins to pry out the nails.) Oh, would that I could be free from thought! Would that I might breathe out my life in heavy sleep, in rapturous tears! The truth is and must be that thou art wretched!—(Turning the painting into the moonlight.) Ah! Fernando! when thou camest to me, and my heart sprang to meet thee, didst thou not place reliance on thy faith, thy goodness!—Didst thou not feel what a sanctuary was ready for thee, when my heart opened to receive thee?—And thou didst not shrink back at my presence? Thou didst not sink! thou didst not escape?—Thou wast able to pluck my innocence, my happiness, my life, like a flower, for mere pastime, and cast it aside thoughtlessly upon the way?—Noble? ha! noble! My youth—my golden days!—And thou carriedst this deep treachery in thy heart!—Thy wife! thy daughter!—And my soul was free, pure as a spring morning!—All, all, a hope!—Where art thou, Stella?—(Gazing at the portrait.) So great! so flattering!—It was this expression that brought me to ruin!—I hate thee!—Away! turn away! So dreamy! so dear!—No, no!—Spoiler!—Me?—Me?—Thou?—Me?—(She thrusts the dagger at the painting.) Fernando!—(She turns away, drops the knife, and with a torrent of tears kneels before the chair.) Dearest! dearest! ’Tis vain, ’tis vain!

EnterServant.

Servant.

Your ladyship! According to your command the horses are at the back garden gate. Your linen is packed! Don’t forget to take money.

Stella.

The painting! (Servantpicks up the knife and cuts the painting from the frame and rolls it.) Here is money.

Servant.

But why?

Stella.

(Standing motionless a moment, looking up and around.) Come!

[Exit.

Hall.

Fernando.

(Alone.) Leave me! leave me! Lo! now it seizes me again with all its horrible confusion!—So chill, so fearful lies all before me—as though the world were naught—as though I had committed no wrong therein.—And the world!—Ha! I am no more wretched than you. What have yet to demand of me?—What is the end of the thought?—Here! and here! From one end to the other! Everything thought of! and thought of again and again! and evermore terrifying, more horrible! (Holding his forehead.) It comes to this at last! Nothing before, nothing back of me! Nowhere help, nowhere counsel!—And these two, these three noblest and best of women on the earth—wretched through me!—wretched without thee!—Alas! still more wretched with me—If I could mourn, could doubt, could beg for forgiveness—could in dull hope spend but one hour—could lie at their feet and enjoy the bliss of wretchedness in sympathy! And where are they? Stella! thou liest prone, thou gazest up to heaven and criest in despair: “What crime have I, poor blossom, done, that Thy wrath so crushes me? What was my sin that Thou should’st lead this villain to me?” Cecilia! my wife! oh, my wife!—Misery! misery! deep misery!—What beatitudes united to make me wretched! Husband! Father! Lover!—The noblest and best of women!—Thine! thine!—Canst thou comprehend this, this threefold, unspeakable delight?—And now it is this that affects thee so, that tears thee in pieces!—Each demands me absolutely! And I?—Here it is over!—Deep, unfathomable!—She will be wretched!—Stella! thou art wretched!—Of what have I robbed thee?—The consciousness of thyself, thy young life! Stella!—And I am so cold? (He takes a pistol from the table.) Yet whatever may come!—(He loads.)

EnterCecilia.

Cecilia.

My best beloved! How is it with us? (She looks at the pistol.) That looks as if thou wert ready for a journey! (Fernando lays it down.) My friend, thou seemest to me serene. Can I speak one word with thee?

Fernando.

What will’st thou, Cecilia? What will’st thou, my wife?

Cecilia.

Call me not so until I have finished speaking. We are now indeed very much perplexed! Cannot this be regulated? I have suffered much, and hence want no violent resolutions! Dost thou understand me, Fernando?

Fernando.

I hear.

Cecilia.

Take it to heart! I am only a woman, a sorrowful, mourning woman; but my soul is full of resolution!—Fernando!—I have resolved!—I leave thee!

Fernando.

(Derisively.) Dost thou mean it?

Cecilia.

Dost thou think that one must go away secretly in order to take leave of what one loves?

Fernando.

Cecilia!

Cecilia.

I am not reproaching thee! and I do not believe that I am sacrificing thee so very much! Till now I mourned the loss of thee; I grieved over what I could not change. Now I find thee again; thy presence gives me new life, new power! Fernando! I feel that my love for thee is not selfish! is not the passion of a mistress who would give everything to get possession of the entreated object. Fernando! my heart is warm and full for thee! It is the feeling that a wife has who from love itself can offer up her love!

Fernando.

Never! never!

Cecilia.

Thou art angry?

Fernando.

Thou torturest me!

Cecilia.

Thou shalt yet be happy! I have my daughter—and a friend in thee! We will part, without a separation. I will live at a distance from thee, and remain a witness of thy happiness. Thy confidante will I be; thou shalt pour thy joy and sadness into my bosom. Thy letters shall be my only life; and mine to thee shall come as a precious visit. And thus thou wilt remain mine, thou wilt not be banished with Stella to a distant corner of the earth; we will love each other, share in each other’s lot! And thus, Fernando, give me thy hand on it!

Fernando.

As a jest this would be too horrible; as meant in earnest, it is incomprehensible! Let it turn as it will, my dearest! Cold reason will not untie this knot. What thou sayest sounds beautiful, tastes sweet. Who would not feel that far more is hidden under what thou sayest than thou dreamest of, that thou deceivest thyself, while thou allayest thy tormenting feelings with a deceptive, chimerical consolation. No, Cecilia! my wife, no! thou art mine—I remain thine!—What effect have words? Why should I lay before thee the whys and wherefores? The reasons are so many lies. I remain thine, or—

Cecilia.

Well, then!—And Stella? (Fernandostarts up and walks wildly up and down.) Who deceives himself deafens his torments through a cold, unfeeling, thoughtless, transitory consolation! Yes, you men know yourselves!

Fernando.

Do not boast of thy equanimity.—Stella! she is unhappy! She will weep out her days far from thee and me! Let her! Let me!

Cecilia.

Loneliness, I believe, would do her heart good; the knowledge that we were united would be good for her tender affection. Now she is covering herself with bitter reproaches. She would think if I left thee now that I was more unhappy than I really am; for she judges me by herself! She would not live in peace, she would not be able to love me, angel that she is, if she felt that her happiness was stolen. It is better for her—

Fernando.

Let her go away! let her go into a nunnery!

Cecilia.

Yes; but when that thought comes into my mind, I say: Why should she then be placed within the cloister walls? What is her sin, that she must sacrifice her most blooming years, the years of abundance, of ripening hopes, that she must weep in despair on the edge of the precipice? that she must be separated from her beloved world so dear to her—from him whom she loves so warmly? from him who—for you do love her, do you not, Fernando?

Fernando.

Ha! what dost thou mean? Art thou an evil spirit in the shape of my wife? Why dost thou torment my heart? Why dost thou torture the lacerated? Am I not sufficiently shaken, torn, tossed? God have pity upon thee!

[He throws himself into an arm-chair.

Cecilia.

(Goes to him and takes his hand.) There was once upon a time a count—(Fernandoattempts to spring up;Ceciliarestrains him)—a German count. Him a feeling of duty drove from his spouse, from his estate to the holy land—

Fernando.

Ha!

Cecilia.

He was a gentleman; he loved his wife, he bade her farewell, intrusted to her care the management of his affairs, embraced her and departed. He journeyed through many lands, fought, and was captured. The daughter of his master had compassion on his slavery; she loosed his bonds, they fled. She was his companion through all the risks of the war, his beloved armor-bearer. Crowned with victory, the time came to return—to his noble wife! And his maiden? He felt the impulse of humanity—he believed in humanity—and took her with him.—Behold, the glorious lady of his home hastens out to meet him, sees all her faithfulness, all her honor rewarded; she holds him in her arms again. And then side by side with him, his knights, with pride and proud respect dismount from their steeds upon the ancestral soil; his servants unpack the booty and lay it at her feet; and she stores it away in all her treasuries, decorates her castle with it, shares it with her friends.—“Dear, noble wife, the greatest treasure is yet to come!”—Who is it that all veiled steps with the throng anigh? Lightly she dismounts from her palfrey! “Here!” cries the count, taking her by the hand and leading her to his wife, “here! see the whole—and take it from her hands again, take it from her hands again! She hath unloosed the chains from my neck, she hath commanded the winds, she hath gained me, saved me, waited upon me! What is my indebtedness to her? Here she is in your power! Give her her reward!” (Fernandowith his arms spread out on the table sobs bitterly.) On her neck the faithful wife cried, amid a thousand tears she cried: “Take all that I can give thee! Take half of him who is wholly thine! Take him absolutely! Leave him absolutely to me! Each of us shall possess him without robbing the other!” “And,” she cried on his neck, at his feet, “we are thine!” They grasped his hands, clung to him—and God in heaven rejoiced in their love and his holy vicar gave his blessing thereunto! And their happiness and their love sanctified one dwelling, one bed and one tomb.

Fernando.

God in heaven! what a ray of hope here is kindled!

Cecilia.

She is here! she is ours! (At the library door.) Stella!

Fernando.

Let her be! let me be!

[About to go away.

Cecilia.

Wait! Listen to me!

Fernando.

We have had enough of words. What can be, will be. Leave me! At this moment I am not yet ready to stand before you both!

[Exit.

Cecilia.

Unhappy man! Always so taciturn, always opposed to the friendly word that would set everything to rights, and she is just the same! Yet I must succeed! (At the door.) Stella! Hear me! Stella!

EnterLucy.

Lucy.

Call her not! She is resting; after her heavy sorrows she is resting a moment. She suffers terribly: I fear, my mother, lest it be from purpose, I fear that she is dying.

Cecilia.

What dost thou say?

Lucy.

It was not medicament that she swallowed, I am afeared!

Cecilia.

And can I have hoped in vain? Oh, that thou mayest be in error!—Terrible—terrible!

Stella.

(At the door.) Who calls me? Why do ye wake me? What o’clock is’t? Why so early?

Lucy.

It is not early; it is evening!

Stella.

’Tis right, ’tis good: evening for me!

Cecilia.

And dost thou deceive us?

Stella.

Who deceived thee? Thyself!

Cecilia.

I brought thee back, I hoped!

Stella.

For me there is no abiding.

Cecilia.

Alas, I would have sent for thee, would have journeyed, would have hastened to the end of the world!

Stella.

I am at the end!

Cecilia.

(ToLucy,who has meantime been in anguish, hurrying this way and that.) Why dost thou delay? Hasten, call aid!

Stella.

(HoldingLucyback.) Nay! remain! (She leans on both and they come to the front.) On your arm I thought to go through life; thus lead me to the grave!

[They lead her slowly to the foreground and place her in a chair at the right.

Cecilia.

Away, Lucy, away! Help! help!

[ExitLucy.

Stella.

My help has come!

Cecilia.

How different it is from what I expected, from what I hoped!

Stella.

Thou kind friend, full of patience, full of hope!

Cecilia.

What a horrible fate!

Stella.

Deep wounds are made by the fates, but often they can be healed. Wounds that the heart makes on the heart, that the heart makes on itself are incurable, and so—let me die!

EnterFernando.

Fernando.

Was Lucy too hasty, or is the tidings true? Oh, let it not be true, or I shall curse thy courage, Cecilia, thy forbearance!

Cecilia.

My heart makes me no reproaches, Good will is higher than all consequences, Hasten for aid! She still lives, is still ours!

Stella.

(Who looks up and seizesFernando’shand.) Welcome! Give me thy hand! (ToCecilia.) And also thine! All for love’s sake was the fate of my life. All for love’s sake, and so now my death! In the most sacred moments we are silent and understand each other. (She tries to put the hands of the husband and wife together.) And now let me hold my peace and rest.

[She falls on her left arm which is resting on the table.

Fernando.

Yes, we will keep silence, Stella, and rest!

[He goes slowly towards the door at the left.

Cecilia.

(In impatient excitement.) Lucy does not come! No one comes! Can the house, can the neighborhood be a wilderness? Control thyself, Fernando. She still lives! Hundreds have arisen from the bed of death, have even arisen from the grave! Fernando! She still lives. And even if every earthly means fail us and there is no leech, no medicament here, yet there is One in heaven who hears us. (On her knees, nearStella.) Hear me, oh, hear me, God! Preserve her to us! let her not die! (Fernandohas taken a pistol with his left hand and is going slowly away.(Cecilia,as before, holdingStella’sleft hand.) Yes, she lives; her hand, her dear hand is still warm. I will not let thee go, I cling to thee with the whole force of faith and love. No, it is no delusion. Instant prayer is stronger than human means! (Standing up and looking around her.) He is gone, the silent man, the hopeless! Whither? Oh, may it be that he has not attempted the step to which his whole stormy life ever pointed! Let me follow him! (She is about to hasten out, but stops and looks back atStella.) And must she lie helpless here? Great God! And thus at this horrible moment between these two whom I cannot separate and cannot unite!

[A shot is heard in the distance.

Cecilia.

God!

[She wants to go in the direction of the shot.

Stella.

(Painfully lifting herself up.) What was that? Cecilia, thou art standing so far from me! come nearer, do not leave me! I am so timid! Oh, my agony! I see a stream of blood! Is it my blood? It is not my blood! I am not wounded but I am sick unto death!—It is my blood!

EnterLucy.

Lucy.

Help, mother, help! I am going for help, for the physician; am hurrying messengers away! But alas! quite different aid is needed! My father falls by his own hand! He is lying in his blood! (Ceciliatries to go,Lucyholds her back.) Not there, my mother! What is done is beyond help, and arouses despair!

Stella.

(Who partially standing has been listening attentively, seizesCecilia’shand.) And can it be so? (Standing up and leaning onCeciliaandLucy.) Come! I feel strong again; let us go to him! There let me die!

Cecilia.

Thou totterest, thy knees do not hold thee. From my limbs also the strength has fled.

Stella.

(Sinks down upon the chair again.) To the purpose then! Go thou then to him, to whom thou belongest! Catch his last sigh, his last death-rattle! He is thy spouse! Dost thou hesitate? I beg, I implore thee! Thy delay makes me restless! (With emotion, but weak.) Remember he is alone, and go!

[ExitCecilia,hastily.

Lucy.

I will not leave thee, I will remain with thee!

Stella.

No, Lucy, if thou desirest my happiness then hasten! Away! away! let me rest! The wings of love are palsied! they cannot bear me to him. Thou art fresh and young! Let duty be active where love is dumb! Away to him to whom thou belongest! He is thy father! Dost thou know what that means? Away, if thou lovest me, if thou wilt calm me!

[Lucyslowly turns away, and exit.

Stella.

(Sinking.) And I die alone!

THE Brother AND Sister