Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Carlos.

  Wait only till after dinner.

  Clavigo.

  Not a moment.

  [Exit .

  Carlos.

  (Looking after him after a moment’s silence.) There is some one going to burn his fingers again!

  ACT III.

  SCENE I.

  Guilbert’sabode.

  Sophie Guilbert, Marie, Beaumarchais.

  Marie.

  You have seen him? All my limbs tremble! You have seen him? I had almost fainted when I heard he was come; and you have seen him? No, I can — I will — no — I can never see him again.

  Sophie.

  I was beside myself when he stepped in. For ah! did I not love him as you, with the fullest, purest, most sisterly love? Has not his estrangement grieved, tortured me? And now, the returning, the repentant one, at my feet! Sister, there is something so charming in his look, in the tone of his voice. He —

  Marie.

  Never, never more!

  Sophie.

  He is the same as ever; has still that good, soft, feeling heart; still even that impetuosity of passion. There is still even the desire to be loved, and the excruciatingly painful torture when love is denied him. All! all! and of thee he speaks, Marie! as in those happy days of the most ardent passion. It is as if your good genius had even brought about this interval of infidelity and separation, to break the uniformity and tediousness of a prolonged attachment, and impart to the feeling a fresh vivacity.

  Marie.

  Do you speak a word for him?

  Sophie.

  No, sister. Nor have I promised to do so. Only, dearest, I see things as they are. You and your brother see them in a light far too romantic. You have this experience in common with many a very good girl, that your lover became faithless and forsook you. And that he comes again penitent, will amend his fault, revive all old hopes — that is a happiness which another would not lightly reject.

  Marie.

  My heart would break!

  Sophie.

  I believe you. The first moment must make a sensible impression on you — and then, my dear, I beseech you, regard not this anxiety, this embarrassment, which seems to overpower all your senses, as a result of hatred and ill-will. Your heart speaks more for him than you suppose, and even on that account you do not trust yourself to see him, because you so anxiously desire his return.

  Marie.

  Spare me, dearest!

  Sophie.

  You should be happy. Did I feel that you despised him, that he was indifferent to you, I would not say another word, he should see my face no more. Yet, as it is, my love, you will thank me that I have helped you to overcome this painful irresolution, which is a token of the deepest love.

  Guilbert, Buenco.

  Sophie.

  Come, Buenco! Guilbert, come! Help me to give this darling courage, resolution, now while we may.

  Buenco.

  Would that I dared say — Receive him again.

  Sophie.

  Buenco!

  Buenco.

  The thought makes my blood boil — that he should still possess this angel, whom he has so shamefully injured, whom he has dragged to the grave. He — possess her? Why? How does he repair all that he has violated? He returns; once more it pleases him to return and say: “Now I may; now I will,” just as if this excellent soul were suspected wares, which one after all tosses to the buyer, when he has already tormented you to the marrow by the meanest offers, and haggling like a Jew. No, my voice he will never obtain, not even if the heart of Marie herself should speak for him. To return; and why, then, now? — now? — Must he wait till a valiant brother come, whose vengeance he must fear, and, like a schoolboy, come and crave pardon? Ha! he is as cowardly as he is worthless.

  Guilbert.

  You speak like a Spaniard, and as if you did not know Spaniards. This moment we are in greater danger than you are aware of.

  Marie.

  Good Guilbert!

  Guilbert.

  I honor our brother’s bold soul. In silence I have observed his heroic conduct. That all may turn out well, I wish that Marie could resolve to give Clavigo her hand; for — (smiling) — her heart he has still.

  Marie.

  You are cruel.

  Sophie.

  Listen to him, I beseech you, listen to him!

  Guilbert.

  Your brother has wrung from him a declaration, which will vindicate you in the eyes of the world, and ruin us.

  Buenco.

  How?

  Marie.

  O God!

  Guilbert.

  He gave it in the hope of touching your heart. If you remain unmoved, then he must with might and main destroy the paper. This he can do; this he will do. Your brother will print and publish it immediately after his return from Aranjuez. I fear, if you persist, he will not return.

  Sophie.

  My dear Guilbert!

  Marie.

  It is killing me!

  Guilbert.

  Clavigo cannot let the paper be published. If you reject his offer and he is a man of honor, he goes to meet your brother, and one of them falls; and whether your brother perish or triumph he is lost. A stranger in Spain! The murderer of this beloved courtier! My sister, it is all very well to think and feel nobly, but to ruin yourself and yours —

  Marie.

  Advise me, Sophie; help me!

  Guilbert.

  And Buenco, contradict me, if you can.

  Buenco.

  He dares not; he fears for his life; otherwise he would not have written at all; he would not have offered Marie his hand.

  Guilbert.

  So much the worse. He will get a hundred to lend him their arm; a hundred to take away our brother’s life on the way. Ha! Buenco, are you then so young? Should not a courtier have assassins in his pay?

  Buenco.

  The king is great and good.

  Guilbert.

  Go then, traverse the walls which surround him, the guards, the ceremonial, and all that his courtiers have put between his people and him; press through and save us. Who comes?

  Clavigo appears.

  Clavigo.

  I must! I must!

  [Marie utters a shriek, and falls into Sophie’s arms.

  Sophie.

  Cruel man, in what a position you place us!

  [Guilbert and Buenco draw near to her.

  Clavigo.

  Yes, it is she! it is she! and I am Clavigo! Listen to me, gentle Marie, if you will not look on me. At the time that Guilbert received me as a friend into his house, when I was a poor unknown youth, and when in my heart I felt for you an overpowering passion, was that any merit in me? or was it not rather an inner harmony of characters, a secret union of soul, so that you too could not remain unmoved by me, and I could flatter myself with the sole possession of this heart? And now — am I not even the same? Are you not even the same? Why should I not venture to hope? Why not entreat? Would you not once more take to your bosom a friend, a lover, whom you had long believed lost, if after a perilous, hapless voyage he returned unexpectedly and laid his preserved life at your feet? And have I not also tossed upon a raging sea? Are not our passions, with which we live in perpetual strife, more terrible and indomitable than those waves which drive the unfortunate far from his fatherland? Marie! Marie! How can you hate me when I have never ceased to love you? Amid all infatuation, and in the lap of all the enchanting seductions of vanity and pride, I have ever remembered those happy days of liberty which I spent at your feet in sweet retirement, as we saw lie before us a succession of blooming prospects. — And now, why would you not realize with me all that we hoped? Will you now not enjoy the happiness of life because a gloomy interval has deferred our hopes? No, my love, believe that the best friends in the world are not quite pure; the highest joy is also interrupted through our passions, through fate. Shall we complain that it has happened to us, as to all others, and shall we chastise ourselves in casti
ng away this opportunity of repairing the past, of consoling a ruined family, of rewarding the heroic deed of a noble brother, and of establishing our own happiness forever? My friends! from whom I deserve nothing; my friends, who must be so, because they are the friends of virtue, to which I return, unite your entreaties with mine. Marie! (He falls on his knees.) Marie! Do you recognize my voice no more? Do you no more feel the pulse of my heart? Is it so? Marie! Marie!

  Marie.

  O Clavigo!

  Clavigo.

  (Leaps up and kisses her hand with transport.) She forgives me! She loves me! (He embraces Guilbert and Buenco.) She loves me still! O Marie, my heart told me so! I might have thrown myself at your feet, silently uttered with tears my anguish, my penitence; without words you would have understood me, without words I would have received my forgiveness. No, this intimate union of our souls is not destroyed; no, still they understand each other as in the olden time, in which no sound, no sign was needful to impart our deepest emotions. Marie! Marie! Marie!

  Beaumarchais advances.

  Beaumarchais.

  Ha!

  Clavigo.

  (Rushing towards him.) My brother!

  Beaumarchais.

  Do you forgive him?

  Marie.

  No more, no more! my senses abandon me.

  [They lead her away.

  Beaumarchais.

  Has she forgiven him?

  Buenco.

  It seems so.

  Beaumarchais.

  You do not deserve your happiness.

  Clavigo.

  Believe that I feel it.

  Sophie.

  (Returns.) She forgives him. A stream of tears broke from her eyes. He should withdraw, said she sobbing, till I recover! I forgive him. — ”Ah, my sister!” she exclaimed, and fell upon my neck, “whence knows he that I love him so?”

  Clavigo.

  (Kissing her hand.) I am the happiest man under the sun. My brother!

  Beaumarchais.

  (Embraces him.) With all my heart then. Although I must tell you: even yet I cannot be your friend, even yet I cannot love you. So now you are one of us, and let all be forgotten. The paper you gave me — here it is.

  [He takes it from his portfolio, tears it, and gives it to him.

  Clavigo.

  I am yours, ever yours.

  Sophie.

  I beseech you to retire, that she may not hear your voice, that she may rest.

  Clavigo.

  (Embracing them in turn.) Farewell! Farewell! A thousand kisses to the angel.

  [Exit .

  Beaumarchais.

  After all, it may be for the best, although I should have preferred it otherwise. (Smiling.) A girl is a good-natured creature, I must say — and, my friends, I should tell you, too, it was truly the thought, the wish of our ambassador, that Marie should forgive him, and that a happy marriage might end this sad story.

  Guilbert.

  I too am taking heart again.

  Buenco.

  He is your brother-in-law, and so, good-by! You shall see me in your house no more.

  Beaumarchais.

  Sir!

  Guilbert.

  Buenco!

  Buenco.

  I hate him now and always shall to the day of judgment. And take care with what kind of a man you have to do.

  [Exit .

  Guilbert.

  He is a melancholy bird of ill omen. But yet in time he will be persuaded, when he sees that all goes well.

  Beaumarchais.

  Yet it was hasty to return him the paper.

  Guilbert.

  No more! no more! no visionary cares.

  [Exit .

  ACT IV.

  SCENE I.

  Clavigo’sabode.Carlos,alone.

  Carlos.

  It is praiseworthy to place under guardianship a man, who, by his dissipation or other follies, shows that his reason is deranged. If the magistrate does that, who otherwise does not much concern himself about us, why should not we do it for a friend? Clavigo, you are in a bad position; but there is still hope. And, provided that you retain a little of your former docility, there is time yet to keep you from a folly which, with your lively and sensitive character, will cause the misery of your life, and lead you to an untimely grave. He comes.

  Clavigo.

  (Thoughtful.) Good-day, Carlos.

  Carlos.

  A very sad, dull — . Good-day! Is that the mood in which you come from your bride?

  Clavigo.

  She is an angel! They are excellent people!

  Carlos.

  You will not so hasten with the wedding that we cannot get an embroidered dress for the occasion?

  Clavigo.

  Jest or earnest, at our wedding no embroidered dresses will make a parade.

  Carlos.

  I believe it indeed.

  Clavigo.

  Pleasure in each other’s society, friendly harmony shall constitute the splendor of this festival.

  Carlos.

  You will have a quiet little wedding.

  Clavigo.

  As those who feel that their happiness rests entirely with themselves.

  Carlos.

  In those circumstances it is very proper.

  Clavigo.

  Circumstances! What do you mean by “those circumstances”?

  Carlos.

  As the matter now stands and remains.

  Clavigo.

  Listen, Carlos, I cannot bear a tone of reserve between friends. I know you are not in favor of this marriage; notwithstanding, if you have aught to say against it, you may say it. Come, out with it. How then does the matter stand? how goes it?

  Carlos.

  More unexpected, strange things happen to one in life, and it were not well if all went quite smoothly. One would have nothing to wonder at, nothing to whisper in the ear, nothing to pull to pieces in society.

  Clavigo.

  It will make some stir.

  Carlos.

  Clavigo’s wedding! that is clear of course. How many a girl in Madrid waits patiently for thee, hopes for thee, and if you now play them this trick?

  Clavigo.

  That cannot be helped now.

  Carlos.

  ’Tis strange, I have known few men who make so great and general an impression on women as you. In all ranks there are good girls who occupy their time with plans and projects to become yours. One relies on her beauty, another on her riches, another on her rank, another on her wit, and another on her connections. What compliments have been paid to me on your account! For, indeed, neither my flat nose, nor crisp hair, nor my known contempt for women can bring me such good luck.

  Clavigo.

  You mock.

  Carlos.

  As if I have not already had in my hands declarations, offers, written with their own white fond little fingers, as badly spelled as an original love-letter of a girl can only be! How many pretty duennas have come under my thumb on this account!

  Clavigo.

  And you did not say a word of all this?

  Carlos.

  I did not wish to trouble you with mere trifles, and I could not have advised you to take any such matter seriously. O Clavigo, my heart has watched over your fate as over my own! I have no other friend but you; all men are not to be tolerated, and you even begin to be unbearable.

  Clavigo.

  I entreat you, be calm.

  Carlos.

  Burn the house of a man who has taken ten years to build it, and then send him a confessor to recommend Christian patience! A man ought to look out for no one but himself; people do not deserve —

  Clavigo.

  Are your misanthropic visions returning?

  Carlos.

  If I harp anew on that string, who is to blame but you? I said to myself: What would avail him at present the most advantageous marriage? him, who for an ordinary man has doubtless advanced far enough? But with his genius, with his gifts, it is not pr
obable, it is not possible, that he can remain stationary. I concerted my plans. There are so few men at once so enterprising and so supple, so highly gifted and so diligent. He is well qualified in all departments. As recorder, he can rapidly acquire the most important knowledge; he will make himself necessary; and should a change take place, he becomes minister.

  Clavigo.

  I avow it. Often, too, were these my dreams.

  Carlos.

  Dreams! As surely as I should succeed in reaching the top of a tower, if I set off with the firm determination not to yield till I had carried my point, so surely would you have overcome all obstacles; and afterwards the rest would have given me no disquietude. You have no fortune from your family, so much the better! You would have become more zealous to acquire, more attentive to preserve. Besides, he who sits at the receipt of custom without enriching himself is a great fool; and I do not see why the country does not owe taxes to the minister as well as to the king. The latter gives his name, and the former the power. When I had arranged all that, I then sought out a fit match for you. I saw many a proud family which would have shut their eyes to your origin, many of the richest who would have gladly supported you in the maintenance of your rank, to share the dignity of the second king — and now —

  Clavigo.

  You are unjust, you lower my actual condition too much; and do you fancy then that I cannot rise higher, and make still further advances?

  Carlos.

  My dear friend, if you lop off the heart of a young plant, in vain will it afterwards and incessantly put forth countless shoots; it will form, perhaps, a large bush, but it is all over with the kingly attempt of its first growth. And think not that at the court this marriage is regarded with indifference. Have you forgotten what sort of men disapproved your attachment, your union with Marie? Have you forgotten who inspired you with the wise thought of abandoning her? Must I count them all on my fingers?

  Clavigo.

  This thought has already distressed me; yes, few will approve this step.

  Carlos.

  Nobody; and will not your powerful friends be indignant that you, without asking their leave, without consulting them, should have so hastily sacrificed yourself like a thoughtless child, who throws away his money in the market on worm-eaten nuts?