Enter William.
Fabricius.
Did you have a good walk?
William.
I went up along the market and Church Street and back again by the Bourse. It always gives me a wonderful sensation to walk through the city at night. After the toil of the day most men are at rest, but others are hurrying to their night-work, and thus the little wheels of trade are constantly revolving. I took special pleasure in an old cheesemonger who, with her spectacles on her nose, was laying one piece after another on the scales, by the light of a candle end, and trimming off the edges until the purchaser got the quantity she wanted.
Fabricius.
Every one has his own powers of observation. I think that there are few people on the street who would have stopped to gaze at an old cheese-woman and her glasses.
William.
In every one’s business gain is precious, and a small retail trade seems to me respectable since I know how costly a dollar is when it has to be earned a penny at a time. (He stands a few moments lost in thought.) I have had quite a wonderful experience since I have been out. So many things have come into my mind all at once and all in confusion — and that which troubled my heart to its deepest foundations.
[He stops in a brown study.
Fabricius.
(Aside.) I act like a fool. Just as soon as he comes in, the courage leaks out of my fingers’ ends to confess that I love Marian. Yet I must tell him what has happened. (To William.) William, tell me, do you want to move from here? You have too little room and the rent is high. Do you know of any other rooms?
William.
(Absently.) No!
Fabricius.
I thought perhaps we might both help each other. I have my father’s house and occupy only the upper floors; you might take possession of the lower rooms. You are not likely to get married yet awhile. You can use the court and the warerooms for your business and give me a nominal rent, and so it would help both of us.
William.
You are very kind. Truly, I have often thought of this plan after I have been to visit you and seen so much waste room, when I have to put up with such narrow quarters. But there are reasons — we must let it go; it is impossible.
Fabricius.
Why so?
William.
Supposing I were to marry immediately.
Fabricius.
That could be managed. You have plenty of room with your sister, and if you had a wife there would be no trouble.
William.
(Smiling.) And my sister?
Fabricius.
I would take her home with me, in that case. ( William is silent.) And even if you didn’t. Let me speak frankly — I love Marian; let her be my wife!
William.
What?
Fabricius.
Why not? Say yes. Listen to me, brother. I love Marian. I have thought it over this long time. She only, you only can make me as happy as I can possibly be in this world. Give her to me! Give her to me!
William.
(In confusion.) You do not know what you are asking.
Fabricius.
Ah! How could I know? Must I tell you all my wants and what I should have if she became my wife and you my brother-in-law?
William.
(Losing his self-possession.) Never! never!
Fabricius.
What is the reason? I am sorry. — Your aversion! — If you are ever going to have a brother-in-law, as must come sooner or later, why not me? — Me whom you know, whom you love? At least I thought —
artist: max volkhart.
BROTHER AND SISTER.
william and fabricius
William.
Leave me! — I cannot understand it.
Fabricius.
I must tell you all. On you alone depends my fate. Her heart is inclined towards me. You must have seen that. She loves you better than she loves me, but I am content. She will come to love her husband better than her brother; I shall then stand in your place, you in mine, and we shall all be satisfied. I never in my life knew of a union which seemed to promise a more beautiful human relationship. ( William speechless.) To seal the holy compact, best friend, give me thy consent, thy sanction. Tell her that it rejoices you, that it makes you happy. I have her promise.
William.
Her promise!
Fabricius.
She gave it in a parting glance which said more than if she had stayed to speak it. Her embarrassment and her love, her willingness and her hesitation, — it was lovely!
William.
No! no!
Fabricius.
I do not understand you. I am sure that you have no prejudice against me, and yet why are you so opposed to me? Do not be! Do not set yourself against her happiness, against mine. — And I keep thinking that you will be happy with us. Do not refuse thy acquiescence, thy friendly acquiescence in my wishes! ( William still speechless, with contending emotions.) I cannot comprehend you —
William.
Marian? you want to marry her?
Fabricius.
What do you mean?
William.
And she wants you?
Fabricius.
She answered as becomes a modest maiden.
William.
Go! go! — Marian! — I suspected it, I foresaw it!
Fabricius.
Only tell me —
William.
What shall I tell you? It was this that lay on my mind this evening, like a thunder-cloud. The lightning flashed, it struck! — Take her! — take her! — My only treasure — my all! ( Fabricius looks at him with astonishment.) Take her! And that you may know what you have taken from me — (Pause. He collects himself.) I have told you of Charlotte, the angel, who was snatched from my arms and who left me her image, her daughter. — And this daughter — I have deceived you — she is not dead; this daughter is Marian! — Marian is not my sister!
Fabricius.
I was not prepared for this revelation.
William.
This blow I ought to have expected from you! — Why did I not follow the dictates of my heart and shut my house to you as to every one else, in the first days when I came here? To you alone I granted entrance into this sanctuary, and you succeeded in lulling my suspicions by your kindness, your friendliness, your encouragement, your apparent coldness towards women. Just as I was, according to all appearances, her brother, so I considered your feeling for her a genuine brotherly one. And even if sometimes a suspicion arose in my mind, I put it away as ignoble, ascribed her affection for you to her angelic heart, which looks upon all the world with friendly glances. And you! — And she!
Fabricius.
It is not right for me to listen longer and I have nothing to say. So goodby!
[Exit .
William.
Yes, go! — You take all my happiness away with you! So undermined, so hopelessly destroyed are all my prospects — my nearest hopes — suddenly! All precipitated into the abyss — and with them the magic golden bridge that was to bear me over to the bliss of paradise! — and through him, the traitor who has so abused my frankness, my confidence! O William, William! Hast thou gone so far as to be unjust to thy good friend? What sin has he committed? O Fate, thy retribution weighs heavy upon me, and thou art just. — Why am I standing here? Why? Just at this moment? Forgive me! Have I not been punished for it? Forgive me! It is long I have suffered infinitely. I seemed to love you; I believed that I loved you; with inconsiderate amiability, courtesies, I shut fast your heart and brought you pain. Forgive me and let me go! Must I be so punished? — Must I lose Marian? the last hope of my life, the epitome of my solicitude. It cannot be! it cannot be!
[He is silent.
Marian.
(Approaching with embarrassment.) Brother.
William.
Ah!
Marian.
Dear brother, you must forgive me, I bother you about everything. You are vexed; I might have kno
wn it. I have done a piece of stupidity. — It is a most extraordinary thing to me.
William.
(Collecting his thoughts.) What is the matter, my girl?
Marian.
I wish that I could tell it to you. Everything is whirling about so in my head. Fabricius wants to marry me and I —
William.
(Half bitterly.) Speak it out, you gave him your promise.
Marian.
No, not for the world! Never will I marry him; I cannot marry him.
William.
How strange that sounds!
Marian.
Strange enough. You are very unkind, my brother; I should be glad to go away and wait a good long hour did not my heart oblige me to say first and last: I cannot marry Fabricius.
William.
(Standing up and taking Marian by the hand.) How so, Marian?
Marian.
He was here and he brought up so many reasons that I imagined that it would be possible. He was so importunate that without due consideration I told him to speak with you. He took this for yes, and in that very instant I felt that it could never be.
William.
He has spoken to me.
Marian.
I beg of you, with all my heart and soul, by all the love which I have for you, by all the love which you feel for me, set it right again, tell him!
William.
(Aside.) Merciful heavens!
Marian.
Do not be angry! He will not be angry either. We will live just as we have always lived. For I could not live with any one besides you. It has always been deep in my soul, and this accident has brought it out, brought it out with emphasis that I love no one besides you!
William.
Marian!
Marian.
Kindest brother, I cannot tell you what has passed through my heart during these last moments. It seemed to me very much as it did lately, when there was a fire in the market, and first there was smoke and steam over everything, until all at once the fire caught the roof and then at last the whole house was one flame. Do not let me go! Do not force me away from thee, my brother!
William.
But it cannot always remain as it is!
Marian.
That is the very thing that troubles me so! I will gladly promise you not to get married; I will always take care of you, always and always. A little distance up the street just such a brother and sister live together; I have often thought of it in fun: “If I should get as old and wrinkled — provided only we still lived together.”
William.
(Mastering his heart, half aside.) If I can withstand this, I will never again get into such a tight place.
Marian.
I know that you do not like it; of course you will marry in time, and I should always be sorry if I could not love her as well as I love you. — No one loves you as well as I; no one could love you so. ( William essays to speak.) You are always so reserved; I always have it on my tongue’s end to tell you just how I feel and I do not dare. Thank God, this accident has unlocked my lips!
William.
Marian, say no more!
Marian.
You must not forbid me! Let me tell you all! Then I will go back to the kitchen and sit for days at a time at my work, seeing you only once in a while, as if to say: “Thou knowest my secret.” (William is speechless in the excess of his joy.) You might have known it long ago, you know how long, ever since our mother’s death, as I grew up out of childhood and was always with you. See! I feel more contented to be near you than gratified by your more than fraternal watchfulness. And gradually you so completely occupied my whole heart, my whole intellect, that now anything else would find it hard to get a resting-place. I know well that you have often laughed at me when I was reading novels: it happened once that I was reading “Julia Mandeville” and I asked if Henry, or whatever his name was, did not look like you. You laughed and I didn’t like it. So the next time I kept quiet. But I was perfectly in earnest about it; for whoever seemed to be the dearest, best men, they all looked to me like you. I saw you walking in the great gardens, and riding and travelling and fighting duels.
[She laughs at the remembrance.
William.
What pleases you?
Marian.
Because I must also confess that if a lady were very beautiful and very good and very much loved — and very much in love — it always seemed to be myself, except at the end when the disentanglement came and they got married after all the hindrances; but I am certainly a very impulsive, fond, talkative creature!
William.
Go on! (Aside.) I must drink the cup of joy to the dregs! God in heaven, keep me in my senses!
Marian.
Least of all could I endure it when I read of a couple of people loving each other, and finally finding out that they were relations, or were brother and sister. That “Miss Fanny” I could have burned alive! I cried so over it! It is such a pathetic story.
[She turns away and weeps bitterly.
William.
(Taking her to his heart with a flood of tears.) Marian! my Marian!
Marian.
William! no! no! never will I let thee go from me! Thou art mine! I will hold thee fast! I will not let thee go!
Enter Fabricius.
Marian.
Ah, Fabricius, you come at the right time! My heart is full and strong, so that I can tell you all. I did not give any promise. Be our friend; but I can never marry you!
Fabricius.
(Cold and bitter.) I foresaw it, William! If you put all your weight on the scale, of course I should be found too light. I come back to put out of my heart what has no right there. I renounce all claims and perceive that things have already accommodated themselves! At least I am glad that I am the innocent cause of it.
William.
Be not petulant at this moment, and still more do not lose a sensation for which you would vainly seek in a pilgrimage around the world! Look at this creature — she is entirely mine — and yet she has not the slightest idea —
Fabricius.
(Half scornfully.) She does not know —
Marian.
What don’t I know?
William.
Could one tell a falsehood thus, Fabricius?
Fabricius.
(Touched.) She does not know?
William.
I assure you.
Fabricius.
Live for each other then! You are worthy of each other!
Marian.
What does this mean?
William.
(Taking her in his arms.) Thou art mine, Marian!
Marian.
Heavens! What does this mean? Can I give thee back this kiss! What a kiss that was, my brother!
William.
Not the kiss of a reserved, apparently cold brother, but the kiss of an eternally happy lover! (Kneeling.) Marian, thou art not my sister. Charlotte was thy mother, not mine.
Marian.
Thou! thou!
William.
Thy lover! — From this moment forth, thy husband, unless thou scornest me.
Marian.
Tell me how it all came about!
Fabricius.
Enjoy what God himself can only give once in a lifetime. Accept it, Marian, and ask no questions! — You will find time enough to make all explanations.
Marian.
(Looking at him.) No, it is impossible!
William.
My sweetheart, my wife!
Marian.
(In his arms.) William! it is impossible!
STELLA
Translated by Anna Swanwick
This five act tragedy was completed by 1805, resulting from a previous version of 1775. The play premiered on 15 January, 1806 in Weimar.
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ACT I.
ACT II.
ACT III.
ACT IV.
ACT
V.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
STELLA.
CECILIA. (At first under the name of MADAME SOMMER.)
FERNANDO.
LUCY.
STEWARD.
LANDLADY.
ANNIE.
CARL.
SERVANT.
ACT I.
At the Inn.
The sound of a Post-horn is heard.
Landlady.
Carl! Carl!
[The lad appears.
Carl.
What’s you want?
Landlady.
Where in the name of all that’s holy have you been? Out with you! The stage is coming. Show the passengers in; lug their bags for them! Bestir yourself! Are you making up a face again? (The lad exits; calling after him.) Hold on! I’ll cure you of your surly ways. A tavern-boy has got to be lively, on his taps. By-and-by, when such a rascal gets to be at the head of things, he lets everything go to pieces. If I ever thought of getting married again, it would be just on this account: that it’s too hard for a woman alone to keep things in running order.
Madame Sommer, Lucy (in travelling-dress), Carl.
Lucy.
(Carrying a valise, to Carl.) Just let it be; ’tisn’t heavy; but take my mother’s bandbox.
Landlady.
At your service, ladies! You are in good time. The stage does not usually get in so early.
Lucy.
We had a very young, jolly, handsome postilion, in whose company I wouldn’t object to travel round the world, and besides there were only two of us without much baggage.
Landlady.
If you want something to eat, please be good enough to be patient for a bit; dinner isn’t quite ready yet.
Madame Sommer.
Might I trouble you for just a little lunch?
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 191