Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 169
Weislingen.
Did you but know him!
Adelaide.
I would deal justly with Goetz. He has a lofty indomitable spirit, and woe to thee, therefore, Weislingen. Go, and persuade thyself thou art his companion. Go, and receive his commands. Thou art courteous, gentle —
Weislingen.
And he too.
Adelaide.
But thou art yielding, and he is stubborn. Imperceptibly will he draw thee on. Thou wilt become the slave of a baron; thou that mightest command princes! — Yet it is cruel to make you discontented with your future position.
Weislingen.
Did you but know what kindness he showed me.
Adelaide.
Kindness! — Do you make such a merit of that? It was his duty. And what would you have lost had he acted otherwise? I would rather he had done so. An overbearing man like —
Weislingen.
You speak of your enemy.
Adelaide.
I speak for your freedom; yet I know not why I should take so much interest in it. Farewell!
Weislingen.
Permit me, but a moment.
[Takes her hand. A pause.
Adelaide.
Have you aught to say?
Weislingen.
I must hence.
Adelaide.
Then go.
Weislingen.
Gracious lady, I cannot.
Adelaide.
You must.
Weislingen.
And is this your parting look?
Adelaide.
Go, I am unwell, very inopportunely.
Weislingen.
Look not on me thus!
Adelaide.
Wilt thou be our enemy, and yet have us smile upon thee? Go!
Weislingen.
Adelaide!
Adelaide.
I hate thee!
EnterFrancis.
Francis.
Noble sir, the bishop inquires for you.
Adelaide.
Go! go!
Francis.
He begs you to come instantly.
Adelaide.
Go! go!
Weislingen.
I do not say adieu: I shall see you again.
[ExeuntWeislingen andFrancis.
Adelaide.
Thou wilt see me again? We must provide for that. Margaret, when he comes, refuse him admittance. Say I am ill, have a headache, am asleep, anything. If this does not detain him, nothing will.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
An Ante-room.
Weislingen andFrancis.
Weislingen.
She will not see me!
Francis.
Night draws on; shall we saddle?
Weislingen.
She will not see me!
Francis.
Shall I order the horses?
Weislingen.
It is too late; we stay here.
Francis.
God be praised.
[Exit.
Weislingen.
(Alone.) Thou stayest! Be on thy guard — the temptation is great. My horse started at the castle gate. My good angel stood before him, he knew the danger that awaited me. Yet it would be wrong to leave in confusion the various affairs entrusted to me by the bishop, without at least so arranging them that my successor may be able to continue where I left off. That I can do without breach of faith to Berlichingen, and when it is done no one shall detain me. Yet it would have been better that I had never come. But I will away — to-morrow — or next day: — ’tis decided!
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
The Spessart.
EnterGoetz, Selbitz andGeorge.
Selbitz.
You see it has turned out as I prophesied.
Goetz.
No, no, no.
George.
I tell you the truth, believe me. I did as you commanded, took the dress and password of the Bamberg trooper, and escorted some peasants of the Lower Rhine, who paid my expenses for my convoy.
Selbitz.
In that disguise? It might have cost thee dear.
George.
So I begin to think, now that it’s over. A trooper who thinks of danger beforehand will never do anything great. I got safely to Bamberg, and in the very first inn I heard them tell how the bishop and Weislingen were reconciled, and how Weislingen was to marry the widow of Von Walldorf.
Goetz.
Mere gossip!
George.
I saw him as he led her to table. She is lovely, by my faith, most lovely! We all bowed — she thanked us all. He nodded, and seemed highly pleased. They passed on, and everybody murmured, “What a handsome pair!”
Goetz.
That may be.
George.
Listen further. The next day as he went to mass, I watched my opportunity; he was attended only by his squire; I stood at the steps, and whispered to him as he passed, “A few words from your friend Berlichingen.” He started — I marked the confession of guilt in his face. He had scarcely the heart to look at me — me, a poor trooper’s boy!
Selbitz.
His evil conscience degrades him more than thy condition does thee.
George.
“Art thou of Bamberg?” said he. “The Knight of Berlichingen greets you,” said I, “and I am to inquire — ” “Come to my apartment to-morrow morning,” quoth he, “and we will speak further.”
Goetz.
And you went?
George.
Yes, certainly, I went, and waited in his ante-chamber a long, long time — and his pages, in their silken doublets, stared at me from head to foot. Stare on, thought I. At length I was admitted. He seemed angry. But what cared I? I gave my message. He began blustering like a coward who wants to look brave. He wondered that you should take him to task through a trooper’s boy. That angered me. “There are but two sorts of people,” said I, “true men and scoundrels, and I serve Goetz of Berlichingen.” Then he began to talk all manner of nonsense, which all tended to one point, namely, that you had hurried him into an agreement, that he owed you no allegiance, and would have nothing to do with you.
Goetz.
Hadst thou that from his own mouth?
George.
That, and yet more. He threatened me —
Goetz.
It is enough. He is lost forever. Faith and confidence, again have ye deceived me. Poor Maria! how am I to break this to you?
Selbitz.
I would rather lose my other leg than be such a rascal.
SCENE IX.
Hall in theBishop’sPalace at Bamberg.
Adelaide andWeislingen discovered.
Adelaide.
Time begins to hang insupportably heavy here. I dare not speak seriously, and I am ashamed to trifle with you. Ennui, thou art worse than a slow fever.
Weislingen.
Are you tired of me already?
Adelaide.
Not so much of you as of your society. I would you had gone when you wished, and that we had not detained you.
Weislingen.
Such is woman’s favor! At first she fosters with maternal warmth our dearest hopes; and then, like an inconstant hen, she forsakes the nest, and abandons the infant brood to death and decay.
Adelaide.
Yes, you may rail at women. The reckless gambler tears and curses the harmless cards which have been the instruments of his loss. But let me tell you something about men. What are you that talk about fickleness? You that are seldom even what you would wish to be, never what you should be. Princes in holiday garb! the envy of the vulgar. Oh, what would a tailor’s wife not give for a necklace of the pearls on the skirt of your robe, which you kick back contemptuously with your heels.
Weislingen.
You are severe.
Adelaide.
It is but the antistrophe to your song. Ere I knew you, Weislingen, I felt like the tailor’s wife. Hundred-tongued r
umor, to speak without metaphor, had so extolled you, in quack-doctor fashion, that I was tempted to wish — Oh, that I could but see this quintessence of manhood, this phœnix, Weislingen! My wish was granted.
Weislingen.
And the phœnix turned out a dunghill cock.
Adelaide.
No, Weislingen, I took an interest in you.
Weislingen.
So it appeared.
Adelaide.
So it was — for you really surpassed your reputation. The multitude prize only the reflection of worth. For my part, I do not care to scrutinize the character of those whom I esteem; so we lived on for some time. I felt there was a deficiency in you, but knew not what I missed; at length my eyes were opened — I saw instead of the energetic being who gave impulse to the affairs of a kingdom, and was ever alive to the voice of fame — who was wont to pile princely project on project, till, like the mountains of the Titans, they reached the clouds — instead of all this, I saw a man as querulous as a love-sick poet, as melancholy as a slighted damsel, and more indolent than an old bachelor. I first ascribed it to your misfortune which still lay at your heart, and excused you as well as I could; but now that it daily becomes worse, you must really forgive me if I withdraw my favor from you. You possess it unjustly: I bestowed it for life on a hero who cannot transfer it to you.
Weislingen.
Dismiss me, then.
Adelaide.
Not till all chance of recovery is lost. Solitude is fatal in your distemper. Alas! poor man! you are as dejected as one whose first love has proved false, and therefore I won’t give you up. Give me your hand, and pardon what affection has urged me to say.
Weislingen.
Could’st thou but love me, could’st thou but return the fervor of my passion with the least glow of sympathy. — Adelaide, thy reproaches are most unjust. Could’st thou but guess the hundredth part of my sufferings, thou would’st not have tortured me so unmercifully with encouragement, indifference and contempt. You smile. To be reconciled to myself after the step I have taken must be the work of more than one day. How can I plot against the man who has been so recently and so vividly restored to my affection?
Adelaide.
Strange being! Can you love him whom you envy? It is like sending provisions to an enemy.
Weislingen.
I well know that here there must be no dallying. He is aware that I am again Weislingen; and he will watch his advantage over us. Besides, Adelaide, we are not so sluggish as you think. Our troopers are reinforced and watchful, our schemes are proceeding, and the Diet of Augsburg will, I hope, soon bring them to a favorable issue.
Adelaide.
You go there?
Weislingen.
If I could carry a glimpse of hope with me.
[Kisses her hand.
Adelaide.
O ye infidels! Always signs and wonders required. Go, Weislingen, and accomplish the work! The interest of the bishop, yours and mine, are all so linked together, that were it only for policy’s sake —
Weislingen.
You jest.
Adelaide.
I do not jest. The haughty duke has seized my property. Goetz will not be slow to ravage yours; and if we do not hold together, as our enemies do, and gain over the emperor to our side, we are lost.
Weislingen.
I fear nothing. Most of the princes think with us. The emperor needs assistance against the Turks, and it is therefore just that he should help us in his turn. What rapture for me to rescue your fortune from rapacious enemies; to crush the mutinous chivalry of Swabia; to restore peace to the bishopric, and then —
Adelaide.
One day brings on another, and fate is mistress of the future.
Weislingen.
But we must lend our endeavors.
Adelaide.
We do so.
Weislingen.
But seriously.
Adelaide.
Well, then, seriously. Do but go —
Weislingen.
Enchantress!
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
An Inn.
The Bridal of aPeasant.
[TheBride’s Father, Bride, Bridegroom and other Country-folks,Goetz of Berlichingen andHans of Selbitz all discovered at table.Troopers andPeasants attend.
Goetz.
It was the best way thus to settle your lawsuit by a merry bridal.
Bride’s Father.
Better than ever I could have dreamed of, noble sir — to spend my days in quiet with my neighbor, and have a daughter provided for to boot.
Bridegroom.
And I to get the bone of contention and a pretty wife into the bargain! Ay, the prettiest in the whole village. Would to Heaven you had consented sooner.
Goetz.
How long have you been at law?
Bride’s Father.
About eight years. I would rather have the fever for twice that time than go through with it again from the beginning. For these periwigged gentry never give a decision till you tear it out of their very hearts; and, after all, what do you get for your pains? The devil fly away with the assessor Sapupi for a damned swarthy Italian!
Bridegroom.
Yes, he’s a pretty fellow; I was before him twice.
Bride’s Father.
And I thrice; and look ye, gentlemen, we got a judgment at last, which set forth that he was as much in the right as I, and I as much as he; so there we stood like a couple of fools, till a good Providence put it into my head to give him my daughter, and the ground besides.
Goetz.
(Drinks.) To your better understanding for the future.
Bride’s Father.
With all my heart! But come what may, I’ll never go to law again as long as I live. What a mint of money it costs! For every bow made to you by a procurator, you must come down with your dollars.
Selbitz.
But there are annual imperial visitations.
Bride’s Father.
I have never heard of them. Many an extra dollar have they contrived to squeeze out of me. The expenses are horrible.
Goetz.
How mean you?
Bride’s Father.
Why, look you, these gentlemen of the law are always holding out their hands. The assessor alone, God forgive him, eased me of eighteen golden guilders.
Bridegroom.
Who?
Bride’s Father.
Why, who else but Sapupi?
Goetz.
That is infamous.
Bride’s Father.
Yes, he asked twenty; and there I had to pay them in the great hall of his fine country-house. I thought my heart would burst with anguish. For look you, my lord, I am well enough off with my house and little farm, but how could I raise the ready cash? I stood there, God knows how it was with me. I had not a single farthing to carry me on my journey. At last I took courage and told him my case: when he saw I was desperate, he flung me back a couple of guilders, and sent me about my business.
Bridegroom.
Impossible! Sapupi?
Bride’s Father.
Ay, he himself! — What do you stare at?
Bridegroom.
Devil take the rascal! He took fifteen guilders from me too?
Bride’s Father.
The deuce he did!
Selbitz.
They call us robbers, Goetz!
Bride’s Father.
Bribed on both sides!
That’s why the judgment fell out so queer.
Oh, the scoundrel!
Goetz.
You must not let this pass unnoticed.
Bride’s Father.
What can we do?
Goetz.
Why — go to Spire where there is an imperial visitation: make your complaint; they must inquire into it, and help you to your own again.
Bridegroom.
Does your honor think we shall succeed?
Goetz.
If I might take him in hand, I could promise it you.
Selbitz.
The sum is worth an attempt.
Goetz.
Ay; many a day have I ridden out for the fourth part of it.
Bride’s Father.
(ToBridegroom.) What think’st thou?
Bridegroom.
We’ll try, come what may.
EnterGeorge.
George.
The Nurembergers have set out.
Goetz.
Whereabouts are they?
George.
If we ride off quietly we shall just catch them in the wood betwixt Berheim and Mühlbach.
Selbitz.
Excellent!
Goetz.
Well, my children, God bless you, and help every man to his own!
Bride’s Father.
Thanks, gallant sir! Will you not stay to supper?
Goetz.
I cannot. Adieu!
[ExeuntGoetz, Selbitz andTroopers
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Garden at Augsburg.
Enter twoMerchants of Nuremberg.
First Merchant.
We’ll stand here, for the emperor must pass this way. He is just coming up the long avenue.
Second Merchant.
Who is that with him?
First Merchant.
Adelbert of Weislingen.
Second Merchant.
The bishop’s friend. That’s lucky!
First Merchant.
We’ll throw ourselves at his feet.
Second Merchant.
See! they come.
Enter theEmperor andWeislingen.
First Merchant.
He looks displeased.
Emperor.
I am disheartened, Weislingen. When I review my past life, I am ready to despair. So many half — ay, and wholly ruined undertakings — and all because the pettiest feudatory of the empire thinks more of gratifying his own whims than of seconding my endeavors.
[TheMerchants throw themselves at his feet.
First Merchant.
Most mighty! Most gracious!
Emperor.
Who are ye? What seek ye?
First Merchant.
Poor merchants of Nuremberg, your majesty’s devoted servants, who implore your aid. Goetz von Berlichingen and Hans von Selbitz fell upon thirty of us as we journeyed from the fair of Frankfort, under an escort from Bamberg; they overpowered and plundered us. We implore your imperial assistance to obtain redress, else we are all ruined men, and shall be compelled to beg our bread.