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? (Fernando starts 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 — (Fernando attempts to spring up; Cecilia restrains 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!” (Fernando with 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!
Enter Lucy.
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.
(To Lucy,who has meantime been in anguish, hurrying this way and that.) Why dost thou delay? Hasten, call aid!
Stella.
(Holding Lucy back.) 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!
[Exit Lucy.
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!
Enter Fernando.
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 seizes Fernando’s hand.) Welcome! Give me thy hand! (To Cecilia.) 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, near Stella.) Hear me, oh, hear me, God! Preserve her to us! let her not die! (Fernando has taken a pistol with his left hand and is going slowly away.(Cecilia,as before, holding Stella’s left 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 at Stella.) 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!
Enter Lucy.
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! ( Cecilia tries to go, Lucy holds her back.) Not there, my mother! What is done is beyond help, and arouses despair!
Stella.
(Who partially standing has been listening attentively, seizes Cecilia’s hand.) And can it be so? (Standing up and leaning on Cecilia and Lucy.) 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!
[Exit Cecilia,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!
[Lucy slowly turns away, and exit.
Stella.
(Sinking.) And I die alone!
IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS
Translated by Anna Swanwick
This play is based on an ancient Greek tragedy by Euripides. Goethe wrote the first version of his tragedy in six weeks and it was first performed on April 6, 1779, in prose form. Goethe played the part of Orestes to great acclaim. He later rewrote the tragedy in prose and finally in 1786 in verse form.
According to the myth, Agamemnon, army commander of the Greeks in the Trojan saga, sacrifices his eldest daughter Iphigenia to the goddess Diana to ensure favourable winds for the voyage to Troy. However, Euripides’ play changes the story, so that Diana actually saved Iphigenia and made her a priestess in Tauris, by the Black Sea. The play concerns her brother Orestes’ adventures as he visits Tauris himself, unaware that Iphigenia is still alive.
A performance of ‘Iphigenia in Tauris’ featuring Goethe as Orestes
CONTENTS
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
SCENE VI.
The first edition
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.
IPHIGENIA.
THOAS, King of the Taurians.
ORESTES.
PYLADES.
ARKAS.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
A Grove before the Temple of Diana.
IPHIGENIA.
Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs
Of this old, shady, consecrated grove,
As in the goddess’ silent sanctuary,
With the same shudd’ring feeling forth I step,
As when I trod it first, nor ever here
Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home.
Long as the mighty will, to which I bow,
Hath kept me here conceal’d, still, as at first,
I feel myself a stranger. For the sea
Doth sever me, alas! from those I love,
And day by day upon the shore I stand,
My soul still seeking for the land of Greece.
But to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves
Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply.
Alas for him! who friendless and alone,
Remote from parents and from brethren dwells;
From him grief snatches every coming joy
Ere it doth reach his lip. His restless thoughts
Revert for ever to his father’s halls,
Where first to him the radiant sun unclos’d
The gates of heav’n; where closer, day by day,
Brothers and sisters, leagu’d in pastime sweet,
Around each other twin’d the bonds of love.
I will not judge the counsel of the gods;
Yet, truly, woman’s lot doth merit pity.
Man rules alike at home and in the field,
Nor is in foreign climes without resource;
Possession gladdens him, him conquest crowns,
And him an honourable death awaits.
How circumscrib’d is woman’s destiny!
Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord,
Her duty, and her comfort; sad her fate,
Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote:
Thus I, by noble Thoas, am detain’d,
Bound with a heavy, though a sacred chain.
Oh! with what shame, Diana, I confess
That with repugnance I perform these rites
For thee, divine protectress! unto whom
I would in freedom dedicate my life.
In thee, Diana, I have always hop’d,
And still I hope in thee, who didst infold
Within the holy shelter of thine arm
The outcast daughter of the mighty king.
Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruin’d Troy
Led back in triumph to his native land
The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict,
His daughter’s life in sacrifice demanding, —
Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon,
Who to thine altar led his darling child,
Preserv’d his wife, Electra, and his son.
His dearest treasures? — then at length restore
Thy suppliant also to her friends and home,
And save her, as thou once from death didst save,
So now, from living here, a second death.
SCENE II.
IPHIGENIA. ARKAS.
ARKAS.
The king hath sent me hither, and commands To hail Diana’s priestess. This the day, On which for new and wonderful success, Tauris her goddess thanks. The king and host Draw near, — I come to herald their approach.
IPHIGENIA.
We are prepar’d to give them worthy greeting; Our goddess doth behold with gracious eye The welcome sacrifice from Thoas’ hand.
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 196